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RECOLLECTIONS 


OR 


MEN  AND  THINGS  I  HAVE  SEEN: 


A    SERIES    OF 


FAMILIAR  LETTERS  TO  A  FRIEND, 

HISTORICAL,  BIOGRAPHICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  AND 
DESCRIPTIVE. 


BY   S.  G"  GOODRICH. 


VOL.  I. 


NEW  YOKE : 

C.  M.  SAXTON,  25  PARK  ROW. 
1859. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  185*, 

By   8.  G.  GOODRICH, 

Tn  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


C.  A.  ALVORD,  PKIHTU, 

No.  15  Vandewater  Street,  N.  Y. 


PREFATORY   NOTE. 


THE  first  Letter  in  the  ensuing  pages  will 
inform  the  reader  as  to  the  origin  of  these  vol 
umes,  and  the  leading  ideas  of  the  author  in 
writing  them.  It  is  necessary  to  state,  how 
ever,  that  although  the  work  was  begun  two 
years  since — as  indicated  by  the  date  of  the 
first  of  these  Letters,  and  while  the  author 
was  residing  abroad — a  considerable  portion 
of  it  has  been  written  within  the  last  year, 
and  since  his  return  to  America.  This  state 
ment  is  necessary,  in  order  to  explain  several 
passages  which  will  be  found  scattered  through 
its  pages. 

NEW  YORK,  SEPTEMBER,  1856. 


ENGRAVINGS. 


VOL.  I. 
PORTRAIT  OF  THE  AUTHOR Frontispiece 

From  the  Medallion  presented  to  him  by  the  American  citizens  in  Paris, 

— on  steel,  engraved  by  Bitch  le. 

PAGE 

AUNT  DELIGHT 36 

MAKING  MAPLE  SCGAB 68 

WHITTLING 94 

CATCHING  PIGEONS 100 

How  ARE  YOU,  PRIEST  ?    How  ARE  YOU,  DEMOCRAT  ? 180 

THE  JERKING  EXERCISE 202 

DEACON  OLMSTEAD 222 

GRACE  INGERSOLL  AT  THE  COURT  OF  NAPOEEON 260 

THE  HERMTTESS 294 

FIEST  ADVENTURE  UPON  THE  SEA 342 

THE  COLD  FRIDAY 894 

PEACE!  PEACE!...                                                                              ..  504 


VOL.  II. 

GEORGE  CABOT 86 

EMIGRATION  IN  1817 80 

PERCIVAL 182 

BRAINARD  WRITING  "  FALL  OF  NIAGARA" 148 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT,  CLERK  OF  THE  COURT  OF  SESSIONS 176 

EDINBURGH 180 

ENGLAND 214 

BYRON'S  COFFIN 250 

THESE  ARE  GOD'S  SPELLING-BOOK 810 

THE  STUDENT 484 

VIEW  lie  PABB 502 

HOME . .  526 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  I. 
Introductory  and  explanatory 9 

LETTER  IL 

Geography  and  chronology — The  old  brown  house — Grandfathers — 
Ridgefield — The  meeting-house — Parson  Mead — Keeler's  tavern — 
Lieutenant  Smith — The  cannon-ball 15 

LETTER  III. 

The  first  remembered  event — High  Ridge — The  spy-glass — Sea  and 
Mountain — The  peel — The  black  patch  in  the  road 24 

LETTER  IV. 

Education  in  New  England — The  burial-ground  of  the  suicide — West 
Lane— Old  Chichester — The  school-house — The  first  day  at  school — 
Aunt  Delight — Lewis  Olmstead — A  return  after  twenty  years — Peter 
Parley  and  Mother  Goose 80 

LETTER  V. 

The  joyous  nature  of  childhood — Drawbacks — The  small-pox — The  pest- 
house — Our  house  a  hospital — Inoculation — The  force  of  early  impres 
sions — Rogers'  Pleasures  of  Memory — My  first  whistle — My  sister's 
recollections  of  a  Sunday  afternoon — The  song  of  Kalewala — Poetic 
-character  of  early  life — Obligations  to  make  childhood  happy 41 

LETTER  VL 

The  inner  life  of  towns — Physical  aspect  and  character  of  Ridgefield — 
Effects  of  cultivation  upon  climate — Energetic  character  of  the  first 
settlers  of  Ridgefield — Classes  of  the  people  as  to  descent — Their  oc 
cupations — Newspapers — Position  of  my  father's  family — Management 
of  the  farm — Domestic  economy,  <fec 56 

LETTER  VIL 

Domestic  habits  of  the  people — Meals — Servants  and  masters — Dress — 
Amusements  —  Festivals  —  Marriages  —  Funerals— Dancing — Winter 
Sports — Up  and  down — My  two  grandmothers 88 


6  CONTENTS. 

LETTER  VIIL 

Interest  in  mechanical  devices — Agriculture — My  parents  design  me  for 
A  carpenter— The  dawn  of  the  age  of  invention— Fulton,  &c.— Per 
petual  motion— Whittling— Gentlemen — St.  Paul,  King  Alfred,  Dan 
iel  Webster,  &c. — Desire  of  improvement,  a  New  England  character 
istic—Hunting — The  bow  and  arrow — The  fowling-piece — Pigeons — 
Anecdote  of  Parson  M.... — Audubon  and  Wilson — The  passenger 
pigeon — Sporting  rambles—  The  blacksnake  and  screech-owl — Fishing 
— Advantages  of  country  life  and  country  training 90 

LETTER  IX. 

Death  of  Washington — Jefferson  and  democracy — Ridgefield  the  great 
thoroughfare  between  New  York  and  Boston — Jerome  Bonaparte  and 
his  young  wife — Oliver  Wolcott,  Governor  Treadwell,  and  Deacon 
Olmstead — Inauguration  of  Jefferson — Jerry  Mead  and  Ensign  Kecler 
— Democracy  and  federalism — Charter  of  Charles  II.— Elizur  Good 
rich,  Deacon  Bishop,  and  President  Jefferson — Abraham  Bishop  and 
"  about  enough  democracy" 106 

LETTER  X. 

How  people  traveled  fifty  years  ago — Timothy  Pickering — Manners  along 
the  road — Jefferson  and  shoe-strings — Mr.  Priest  and  Mr.  Democrat 
— Barbers  at  Washington — James  Madison  and  the  queue — Winter 
and  sleighing — Comfortable  meeting-houses — The  stove-party  and  the 
anti-stove  party — The  first  chaise  built  in  Ridgefield 126 

LETTER  XL 

Up-town  and  Down-town — East  End  and  West  End — Master  Stebbins 
— A  model  schoolmaster — The  school-house — Administration  of  the 
school  —  Zeek  Sanford — School-books — Arithmetic — History — Gram 
mar—Anecdote  of  G. ...  H — Country  schools  of  New  England 

in  these  days — Master  Stebbias's  scholars 188 

LETTER  XIL 

Horsemanship — Bige  Benedict — A  dead  shot — A  race — Academical  hon 
ors — Charles  Chatterbox — My  father's  school — My  exercises  in  Latin — 
Tityre  tu  patulse,  etc. — Rambles — Literary  aspirations — My  mother — 
Family  worship — Standing  and  kneeling  at  prayer — Anecdotes — Our 
Philistine  temple 147 

LETTER  XIIL 

My  father's  library— Children's  books— The  New  England  Primer  and 
Westminster  Catechism— Toy  books— Nursery  books— Moral  effect  of 
these — Hannah  More's  Moral  Repository— The  Shepherd  of  Salisbury 
Plain— Visit  to  Barley-wood— First  idea  of  the  Parley  books— Impres 
sions  of  big  books  and  little  books 164 


CONTENTS.  7 

LETTER  XIV. 

fhe  clergymen  of  Fairfleld  county — Their  character  and  manners— An 
ecdote  of  the  laughing  D.  D. — The  coming  storm 175 

LETTER  XV. 

Ideas  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers — Progress  of  toleration — Episcopacy — Bish 
op  Seabury — Dr.  Duche — Methodism  in  America — In  Connecticut — 
Anecdotes — Lorenzo  Dow — The  wolf  in  my  father's  fold 186 

LETTER  XVL 
The  three  deacons 218 

LETTER  XVIL 

The  federalist  and  the  democrat — Colonel  Bradley  and  General  King — 
Comparison  of  New  England  with  European  villages 229 

LETTER  XVIII. 

The  Ingersolls — Eev.  Jonathan  Ingersoll — Lieutenant-governor  Inger- 
soll — New  Haven  belles — A  chivalrous  Virginian  among  the  Conrec- 
ticut  D.  D.'s — Grace  Ingersoll — A  New  Haven  girl  at  Napoleon's  Court 
— Keal  romance — A  Puritan  in  a  convent 248 

LETTER  XIX. 

Mat  Olmstead,  the  town  wit — The  Salamander  hat — The  great  eclipse — 
Sharp  logic — Lieutenant  Smith,  the  town  philosopher — The  purchase 
of  Louisiana — Lewis  and  Clarke's  exploring  expedition — The  great 
meteor — Hamilton  and  Burr — The  Leopard  and  the  Chesapeake — Ful 
ton's  steamboats — Granthcr  Baldwin — Sarah  Bishop 265 

LETTER  XX. 

A  long  fatewell — A  return — Kidgefield  as  it  is — The  past  and  present 
compared 299 

LETTER  XXI. 

Farewell  to  Eidgefield — Farewell  to  home — Danbtiry — My  new  vocation 
— A  revolutionary  patriarch — Life  in  a  country  store — Homesickness 
— My  brother-in-law — Lawyer  Hatch 323 

LETTER  XXII. 

Visit  to  New  Haven — The  city — Yale  Colleg* — My  uncle's  house — John 
Allen — First  sail  on  the  sea — The  Court-house — Dr.  Dwight — Pro 
fessor  Silliman — Chemistry,  mineralogy,  geology — Anecdote  of  Colo 
nel  Gibbs— Eli  Whitney— The  cotton-gin— The  gun-factory 888 

LETTER  XXIIL 

Durham — History  of  Connecticut — Distinguished  families  of  Durham — 
The  Chaunceys,  Wadsworths,  Lymans,  Austins — Woodbury— How 
romance  becomes  history — Kev.  Noah  Benedict — Judge  Smith  . .  868 


8  CONTENTS. 

LETTER  XXIV. 

Thd  euid  winter  and  a  sharp  ride — Description  of  Danbury — The  hat 
manufactory— The  Sandimanians— Gen. Wooster's  monument— Death 
of  my  brother-in-law— Master  W  bite— Mathematics 898 

LETTER  XXV. 

Farewell  to  Danbury — Hartford — My  first  master  and  his  family — Me 
rino  sheep— A  wind-up— Another  change — My  new  employer — A  new 
era  in  life — George  Sheldon — Franklin's  biography 408 

LETTER  XXVI. 

My  situation  under  my  new  master — Discontent — Humiliating  discove 
ries — Desire  to  quit  trade  and  go  to  college — Undertake  to  re-educate 
myself— A  long  struggle— Partial  success— Infidelity— The  world  with 
out  a  God — Return  after  long  wanderings 417 

LETTER  XXVH. 

Hurtford  forty  years  ago— The  Hartford  wits— Hartford  at  the  present 
time— The  declaration  of  war  in  1812— Baltimore  riote— Feeling  in 
New  England — Embargo — Non-intercourse,  &c. — Democratic  doc 
trine  that  opposition  is  treason 485 

LETTER  XXVHL 

Specks  of  war  in  the  atmosphere — The  first  year — Operations  on  land 
and  water — The  wickedness  of  the  federalists — The  second  year — The 
Connecticut  militia— Decatur  driven  into  the  Thames — Connecticut 
in  trouble — I  become  a  soldier — My  first  and  last  campaign 451 

LETTER  XXIX. 

Description  of  New  London — Fort  Trumbull — Fort  Griswold — The  Brit 
ish  fleet — Decatur  and  his  ships  in  the  Thames — Commodore  Hardy 
— On  guard — A  suspicious  customer — Alarm,  alarm  ! — Influence  of 
camp  life — Return  to  Hartford — Land-warrants — Blue-lights — Deca 
tur,  Biddle,  and  Jones 466 

LETTER  XXX. 

Continuation  of  the  war — Tb^  Creeks  subdued — Battles  of  Chippewaand 
Bridgewater — Capture  of  Washington — Bladensburg  races — Scarcity 
of  money — Rag  money — Bankruptcy  of  the  national  treasury — The 
specie  bank-note,  or  Mr.  Sharp  and  Mr.  Sharper — Universal  gloom — 
State  of  New  England — Anxiety  of  the  Administration — Their  instruc 
tions  to  the  Peace  Commissioners — Battle  of  New  Orleans — Peace — 
Illuminations  and  rejoicings 


APPENDIX ..T..  515 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  LIFETIME, 

IN    A    SERIES    OF 

FAMILIAR  LETTEES  TO  A  FRIEND. 


LETTER  I, 

Introductory  and  Explanatory. 
MY  DEAR  C****** 

A  little  thin  sheet  of  paper,  with  a  frail  wafer 
seal,  and  inscribed  with  various  hieroglyphical  sym 
bols,  among  which  I  see  the  postmark  of  Albany, 
has  just  been  laid  upon  my  table.  I  have  opened  it, 
and  find  it  to  be  a  second  letter  from  you.  Think 
of  the  pilgrimage  of  this  innocent  waif,  unprotected 
save  by  faith  in  man  and  the  mail,  setting  out  upon  a 
voyage  from  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  and  coming 
straight  to  me  at  Courbevoie,  just  without  the  walls 
of  Paris,  a  distance  of  three  thousand  miles  ! 

And  yet  this  miracle  is  wrought  every  day,  every 
hour.  I  am  lingering  here,  partly  because  I  have 
taken  a  lease  of  a  house  and  furnished  it,  and  there- 
lure  I  can  not  well  afford  to  leave  it  at  present.  I 
am  pursuing  my  literary  labors,  and  such  are  the  fa- 

1* 


10  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

cilities  of  intercourse,  by  means  of  these  little  red- 
lipped  messengers,  like  this  I  have  just  received 
from  you,  that  I  can  almost  as  well  prosecute  my 
labors  here  as  at  home.  Could  I  get  rid  of  all  those 
associations  which  bind  a  man  to  his  birth-land ; 
could  I  appease  that  consciousness  which  whispers  in 
my  ear,  that  the  allegiance  of  every  true  man,  free  to 
follow  his  choice,  is  due  to  his  country  and  his  kin 
dred,  I  might  perhaps  continue  here  for  the  remain 
der  of  my  life. 

My  little  pavilion,  situated  upon  an  elevated  slope 
formed  of  the  upper  bank  of  the  Seine,  gives  me 
a  view  of  the  unrivaled  valley  that  winds  between 
Saint  Cloud  and  Asnieres ;  it  shows  me  Paris  in  the 
near  distance — Montmartre  to  the  left,  and  the  Arch 
of  Triumph  to  the  right.  In  the  rear,  close  at  hand, 
is  our  suburban  village,  having  the  aspect  of  a  little 
withered  city.  Around  are  several  chateaus,  and  from 
the  terraced  roof  of  my  house — which  is  arranged  for 
a  promenade — I  can  look  into  their  gardens  and  pleas 
ure-grounds,  sparkling  with  fountains  and  glowing 
with  fruits  and  flowers.  A  walk  of  a  few  rods  brings 
me  to  the  bank  of  the  Seine,  where  boatmen  are  ever 
ready  to  give  the  pleasure-seeker  a  row  or  a  sail ;  in 
ten  minutes  by  rail,  or  an  hour  on  foot,  I  can  be  in 
Paris.  In  about  the  same  time  I  may  be  sauntering 
in  the  Avenue  de  Neuilly,  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  or 
the  galleries  of  Versailles.  My  rent  is  but  about  four 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  with  the  freedom  of  the  gar- 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  11 

dens  and  grounds  of  the  chateau,  of  which  my  resi 
dence  is  an  appendage.  It  is  the  nature  of  this  cli 
mate  to  bring  no  excessive  cold  and  no  extreme  heat. 
You  may  sit  upon  the  grass  till  midnight  of  a  summer 
evening,  and  fear  no  chills  or  fever ;  no  troops  of  flies, 
instinctively  knowing  your  weak  point,  settle  upon 
your  nose  and  disturb  your  morning  nap  or  your 
afternoon  siesta ;  no  elvish  mosquitoes  invade  the 
sanctity  of  your  sleep,  and  force  you  to  listen  to  their 
detestable  serenade,  and  then  make  you  pay  for  it,  as 
if  you  had  ordered  the  entertainment.  If  there  be  a 
place  on  earth  combining  economy  and  comfort — 
where  one  may  be  quiet,  and  yet  in  the  very  midst  of 
life — it  is  here.  Why,  then,  should  I  not  remain  ? 
In  one  word,  because  I  would  rather  be  at  home.  This 
is,  indeed,  a  charming  country,  but  it  is  not  mine.  I 
could  never  reconcile  myself  to  the  idea  of  spending 
my  life  in  a  foreign  land. 

I  am  therefore  preparing  to  return  to  New  York 
the  next  summer,  with  the  intention  of  making  that 
city  .my  permanent  residence.  In  the  mean  time,  I 
am  not  idle,  for,  as  you  know,  the  needs  of  my  fam 
ily  require  me  to  continue  grinding  at  the  mill.  Be 
sides  one  or  two  other  trifling  engagements,  I  have 
actually  determined  upon  carrying  out  your  suggestion, 
that  I  should  write  a  memoir  of  my  life  and  times — 
a  panorama  of  my  observations  and  experience.  You 
encourage  me  with  the  idea  that  an  account  of  my 
life,  common  -place  as  it  has  been,  will  find  readers, 


12  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

and  at  the  same  time,  your  recommendation  naturally 
suggests  a  form  in  which  this  may  be  given  to  the 
public,  divested  of  the  air  of  egotism  which  gener 
ally  belongs  to  autobiography.  I  may  write  my  his 
tory  in  the  form  of  letters  to  you,  and  thus  tell  a 
familiar  story  in  a  familiar  way — to  an  old  friend. 

I  take  due  note  of  what  you  recommend — that  I 
should  make  my  work  essentially  a  personal  narra 
tive.  You  suggest  that  so  long  as  the  great  study 
of  mankind  is  man,  so  long  any  life — supposing  it  to 
be  not  positively  vicious — if  truly  and  frankly  por 
trayed,  will  prove  amusing,  perhaps  instructive.  I 
admit  the  force  of  this,  and  it  has  its  due  influence 
upon  me ;  but  still  I  shall  not  make  my  book,  either 
wholly  or  mainly,  a  personal  memoir.  I  have  no 
grudges  to  gratify,  no  by-blows  to  give,  no  apologies 
to  make,  no  explanations  to  offer — at  least  none 
which  could  reasonably  find  place  in  a  work  like 
this.  I  have  no  ambition  which  could  be  subserved 
by  a  publication  of  a  merely  personal  nature :  to  con 
fess  the  truth,  I  should  rather  feel  a  sense  of  humilia 
tion  at  appearing  thus  in  print,  as  it  would  inevitably 
suggest  the  idea  of  pretense  beyond  performance. 

What  I  propose  is  this :  venturing  to  presume  upon 
your  sympathy  thus  far,  I  invite  you  to  go  with  me, 
in  imagination,  over  the  principal  scenes  I  have  wit 
nessed,  while  I  endeavor  to  make  you  share  in  the  im 
pressions  they  produced  upon  my  own  mind.  Thus 
I  shall  carry  you  back  to  my  early  days,  to  my  native 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,   ETC. 

village,  the  "  sweet  Auburn"  of-my  young  fancy,  and 
present  to  you  the  homely  country  life  in  which  I 
was  born  and  bred.  Those  pastoral  scenes  were  epics 
to  my  childhood ;  and  though  the  heroes  and  hero 
ines  consisted  mainly  of  the  deacons .  of  my  father's 
church  and  the  school-ma'ams  that  taught  me  to  read 
and  write,  I  shall  still  hope  to  inspire  you  with  a  por 
tion  of  the  loving  reverence  with  which  I  regard  their 
memories.  I  shall  endeavor  to  interest  you  in  some 
of  the  household  customs  of  our  New  England  coun 
try  life,  fifty  years  ago,  when  the  Adams  delved  and 
the  Eves  span,  and  thought  it  no  stain  upon  their 
gentility.  I  shall  let  you  into  the  intimacy  of  my 
boyhood,  and  permit  you  to  witness  my  failures  as 
well  as  my  triumphs.  In  this  the  first  stage  of  my 
career,  I  shall  rely  upon  your  good  nature,  in  per 
mitting  me  to  tell  my  story  in  my  own  way.  If  I 
make  these  early  scenes  and  incidents  the  themes  of 
a  little  moralizing,  I  hope  for  your  indulgence. 

From  this  period,  as  the  horizon  of  my  experience 
becomes  somewhat  enlarged,  I  may  hope  to  interest 
you  in  the  topics  that  naturally  come  under  review. 
As  you  are  well  acquainted  with  the  outline  of  my  life, 
I  do  not  deem  it  necessary  to  forewarn  you  that  my 
history  presents  little  that  is  out  of  the  beaten  track  of 
common  experience.  I  have  no  marvels  to  tell,  no 
secrets  to  unfold,  no  riddles  to  solve.  It  is  true 
that  in  the  course  of  a  long  and  busy  career,  I  have 
seen  a  variety  of  men  and  things,  and  had  my  share 


14  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

of  vicissitudes  in  the  shifting  drama  of  life ;  still  the 
interest  of  my  story  must  depend  less  upon  the  im 
portance  of  my  revelations  than  the  sympathy  which 
naturally  belongs  to  a  personal  narrative.  I  am  per 
fectly  aware  that  in  regard  to  many  of  the  events  I 
shall  have  occasion  to  describe,  many  of  the  scenes  I 
shall  portray,  many  of  the  characters  I  shall  bring 
upon  the  stage,  my  connection  was  only  that  of  a 
spectator;  nevertheless,  I  shall  hope  to  impart  to 
them  a  certain  life  and  reality  by  arranging  them 
continuously  upon  the  thread  of  my  remembrances. 

This,  then,  is  my  preface ;  as  the  wind  and  weather 
of  my  humor  shall  favor,  I  intend  to  proceed  and 
send  you  letter  by  letter  as  I  write.  After  a  few  spe 
cimens,  I  shall  ask  your  opinion  ;  if  favorable,  I  shall 
go  on,  if  otherwise,  I  shall  abandon  the  enterprise. 
I  am  determined,  if  I  publish  the  work,  to  make  you 
responsible  for  my  success  before  the  public. 

S.  G.  GOODRICH. 

OOURBEVOIE,  NEAR  PARIS,  JUNE,  1864. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  15 


LETTER   II. 

Geography  and  Chronology — The  Old  Brown  House — Grandfathers— 
Ridgefield — The  Meeting-House — Parson  Mead — Keeper's  Tavern — Lieu 
tenant  Smith — The  Cannon-Sail. 

MY  DEAR  0****** 

It  is  said  that  geography  and  chronology  are 
the  two  eyes  of  history :  hence,  I  suppose  that  in  any 
narrative  which  pretends  to  be  in  some  degree  histor 
ical,  the  when  and  where,  as  well  as  the  how.  should 
be  distinctly  presented.  I  am  aware  that  a  large  part 
of  mankind  are  wholly  deficient  in  the  bump  of  lo 
cality,  and  march  through  the  world  in  utter  indiffer 
ence  as  to  whether  they  are  going  north  or  south, 
east  or  west.  With  these,  the  sun  may  rise  and  set  as 
it  pleases,  at  any  point  of  the  compass ;  but  for  my 
self,  I  could  never  be  happy,  even  in  my  bedroom 
or  study,  without  knowing  which  way  was  north. 
You  will  expect,  therefore,  that  in  beginning  my 
story,  I  make  you  distinctly  acquainted  with  the 
place  where  I  was  born,  as  well  as  the  objects  which 
immediately  surrounded  it.  If,  indeed,  throughout 
my  narrative,  I  habitually  regard  geography  and 
chronology  as  essential  elements  of  a  story,  you  will 
at  least  understand  that  it  is  done  by  design  and  not 
by  accident. 

In  the  western  part  of  the  State  of  Connecticut,  is 


1(1  LKTTKKS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

a  small  town  by  the  name  of  Ridgefield.*  This  title 
is  descriptive,  and  indicates  the  general  form  and  po 
sition  of  the  place.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  collection  of  hills, 
rolled  into  one  general  and  commanding  elevation. 
On  the  west  is  a  ridge  of  mountains,  forming  the 
boundary  between  the  States  of  Connecticut  and  New 
York  ;  to  the  south  the  land  spreads  out  in  wooded 
undulations  to  Long  Island  Sound ;  east  and  north,  a 
succession  of  hills,  some  rising  up  against  the  sky,  and 
others  fading  away  in  the  distance,  bound  the  horizon. 
In  this  town,  in  an  antiquated  and  rather  dilapidated 
house  of  shingles  and  clapboards,  I  was  born  on  the 
19th  of  August,  1793. 

My  father,  Samuel  Goodrich,  was  minister  of  the 
First  Congregational  Church  of  that  place,  there  be 
ing  then,  no  other  religious  society  and  no  other  cler 
gyman  in  the  town,  except  at  Ridgebury — the  remote 
northern  section,  which  was  a  separate  parish.  He 
was  the  son  of  Elizur  Goodrich,  f  a  distinguished  min 
ister  of  the  same  persuasion,  at  Durham,  Connecticut. 
Two  of  his  brothers  were  men  of  eminence — the  late 
Chauncey  Goodrich  of  Hartford,  and  Elizur  Goodrich 
of  New  Haven.  My  mother  was  a  daughter  of  John 
Ely,^:  a  physician  of  Saybrook,  whose  name  figures 
not  unworthily  in  the  annals  of  the  revolutionary 
war. 

I  was  the  sixth  child  of  a  family  of  ten  children, 

»S«e  Note  I.,  p.  515.       fSee  Note  II.,  p.  528.       JSee  Note  III.,  p.  533. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  17 

two  of  whom  died  in  infancy,  and  eight  of  whom 
lived  to  be  married  and  settled  in  life.  All  but  two 
of  the  latter  are  still  living.  My  father's  annual  salary 
for  the  first  twenty-five  years,  and  during  his  minis 
try  at  Eidgefield,  averaged  £120,  old  currency — that 
is,  about  four  hundred  dollars  a  year :  the  last  twenty- 
five  years,  during  which  he  was  settled  at  Berlin,  near 
Hartford,  his  stipend  was  about  five  hundred  dollars  a 
year.  He  was  wholly  without  patrimony,  and  owing 
to  peculiar  circumstances,  which  will  be  hereafter  ex 
plained,  my  mother  had  not  even  the  ordinary  outfit, 
as  they  began  their  married  life.  Yet  they  so  brought 
up  their  family  of  eight  children,  that  they  all  attained 
respectable  positions  in  life,  and  at  my  father's  death, 
he  left  an  estate  of  four  thousand  dollars.*  These 
facts  throw  light  upon  the  simple  annals  of  a  country 
clergyman  in  Connecticut,  half  a  century  ago ;  they 
also  bear  testimony  to  the  thrifty  energy  and  wise  fru 
gality  of  my  parents,  and  especially  of  my  mother, 
who  was  the  guardian  deity  of  the  household. 

Eidgefieldf  belongs  to  the  county  of  Fairfield,  and  is 
now  a  handsome  town,  as  well  on  account  of  its  arti 
ficial  as  its  natural  advantages — with  some  2000  in 
habitants.  It  is  fourteen  miles  from  Long  Island 
Sound' — of  which  its  many  swelling  hills  afford  charm- 


*  One  thousand  of  this  was  received,  a  short  time  before  the  death  of 
my  parents,  for  the  revolutionary  services  of  my  maternal  grandfather. 

t  For  an  account  of  the  present  condition  of  Eidgefield,  see  letter  to 
C.  A.  Goodrich,  page  300. 


18  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ing  views.  The  main  street  is  a  mile  in  length,  and 
is  now  embellished  with  several  handsome  houses. 
About  the  middle  of  it  there  is,  or  was,  some  forty 
years  ago,  a  white  wooden  meeting-house,  which  be 
longed  to  my  father's  congregation.  It  stood  in  a 
small  grassy  square,  the  favorite  pasture  of  numerous 
flocks  of  geese,  and  the  frequent  playground  of  school 
boys,  especially  of  Saturday  afternoons.  Close  by  the 
front  door  ran  the  public  road,  and  the  pulpit,  facing 
it,  looked  out  upon  it,  in  fair  summer  Sundays,  as  I 
well  remember  by  a  somewhat  amusing  incident. 

In  the  contiguous  town  of  Lower  Salem,  dwelt  an 
aged  minister  by  the  name  of  Mead.  He  was  all  his 
life  marked  with  eccentricity,  and  about  these  days 
of  which  I  speak,  his  mind  was  rendered  yet  more 
erratic  by  a  touch  of  paralysis.  He  was,  however, 
still  able  to  preach,  and  on  a  certain  Sunday,  having 
exchanged  with  my  father,  he  was  in  the  pulpit  and 
engaged  in  making  his  opening  prayer.  He  had 

already  begun   his  invocation,  when   David   P , 

who  was  the  Jehu  of  that  generation,  dashed  by 
the  front  door,  upon  a  horse — a  clever  animal  of 
which  he  was  but  too  proud — in  a  full,  round  trot. 
The  echo  of  the  clattering  hoofs  filled  the  church, 
— which  being  of  shingles  and  clapboards  was  sono 
rous  as  a  drum — and  arrested  the  attention  as  well  of 
the  minister  as  the  congregation,  even  before  the 
rider  had  reached  it.  The  minister  was  fond  of  horses 
• — almost  tc  frailty — and  from  the  first,  his  practiced 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  19 

ear  perceived  that  the  sounds  caine  from  a  beast  of 
bottom.  When  the  animal  shot  by  the  door,  he  could 
not  restrain  his  admiration,  which  was  accordingly 
thrust  into  the  very  marrow  of  his  prayer :  "  We  pray 
thee,  O  Lord,  in  a  particular  and  peculiar  manner — 
that's  a  real  smart  critter — to  forgive  us  our  manifold 
trespasses,  in  a  particular  and  peculiar  manner,"  &c. 

I  have  somewhere  heard  of  a  traveler  on  horseback, 
who,  just  at  eventide,  being  uncertain  of  his  road, 
inquired  of  a  person  he  chanced  to  meet,  the  way  to 
Barkhamstead. 

"You  are  in  Barkhamstead  now,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Yes,  but  where  is  the  center  of  the  place?" 

"  It  hasn't  got  any  center." 

"  Well — but  direct  me  to  the  tavern."    • 

"  There  ain't  any  tavern." 

"Yes,  but  the  meeting-house?" 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  that  afore?  There  it  is, 
over  the  hill !" 

So,  in  those  days,  in  Connecticut — as  doubtless  in 
other  parts  of  New  England — the  meeting-house  was 
the  great  geographical  monument,  the  acknowledged 
meridian  of  every  town  and  village.  Even  a  place 
without  a  center  or  a  tavern,  had  its  house  of  worship, 
and  this  was  its  initial  point  of  reckoning.  It  was, 
indeed,  something  more.  It  was  the  town-hall,  where 
all  public  meetings  were  held,  for  civil  purposes ;  it 
was  the  temple  of  religion,  the  ark  of  the  covenant, 
the  pillar  of  society — religious,  social,  and  moral — 


20  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

to  the  people  around.  It  will  not  be  considered 
strange  then,  if  I  look  back  to  the  meeting-house  of 
Ridgefield,  as  not  only  a  most  revered  edifice — cov 
ered  with  clapboards  and  shingles,  though  it  was — but 
as  in  some  sense  the  starting  point  of  my  existence. 
Here,  at  least,  linger  many  of  my  most  cherished  re 
membrances. 

A  few  rods  to  the  south  of  this,  there  was,  and  still 
is,  a  tavern,  kept  in  my  day,  by  Squire  Keeler.  This 
institution  ranked  second  only  to  the  meeting-house ; 
for  the  tavern  of  those  days  was  generally  the  center 
of  news,  and  the  gathering  place  for  balls,  musical 
entertainments,  public  shows,  &c. ;  and  this  particular 
tavern  had  special  claims  to  notice.  It  was,  in  the 
first  place,  on  the  great  thoroughfare  of  that  day,  be 
tween  Boston  and  New  York,  and  had  become  a  gen 
eral  and  favorite  stopping-place  for  travelers.  It  was, 
moreover,  kept  by  a  hearty  old  gentleman,  who  united 
in  his  single  person  the  varied  functions  of  publican, 
postmaster,  representative,  justice  of  the  peace,  and 
I  know  not  what  else.  He  besides  had  a  thrifty 
wife,  whose  praise  was  in  all  the  land.  She  loved 
her  customers,  especially  members  of  Congress,  gov 
ernors,  and  others  in  authority,  who  wore  powder 
and  white-top  boots,  and  who  migrated  to  and  fro,  in 
the  lofty  leisure  of  their  own  coaches.  She  was  in 
deed  a  woman  of  mark,  and  her  life  has  its  moral. 
She  scoured  and  scrubbed  and  kept  things  going, 
until  she  was  seventy  years  old,  at  which  time,  du- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  21 

ring  an  epidemic,  she  was  threatened  with  an  attack. 
She,  however,  declared  that  she  had  not  time  to  be 
sick,  and  kept  on  working,  so  that  the  disease  passed 
her  by,  though  it  made  sad  havoc  all  around  her — 
especially  with  more  dainty  dames,  who  had  leisure 
to  follow  the  fashion. 

Besides  all  this,  there  was  an  historical  interest  at 
tached  to  Keeler's  tavern,  for  deeply  imbedded  in  the 
northeastern  corner-post,  there  was  a  cannon-ball, 
planted  there  during  the  famous  fight  with  the  Brit 
ish  in  1777 .  It  was  one  of  the  chief  historical  mon 
uments  of  the  town,  and  was  visited  by  all  curious 
travelers  who  came  that  way.*  Little  can  the  pres 
ent  generation  imagine  with  what  glowing  interest, 
what  ecstatic  wonder,  what  big  round  eyes,  the  rising 
generation  of  Kidgefield,  half  a  century  ago,  listened 
to  the  account  of  the  fight  as  given  by  Lieutenant 
Smith,  himself  a  witness  of  the  event  and  a  participa 
tor  of  the  conflict,  sword  in  hand. 

This  personage,  whom  I  shall  have  occasion  again 
to  introduce  to  my  readers,  was,  in  my  time,  a  justice 


*  Keeler's  tavern  appears  to  have  received  several  cannon-shots 
from  the  British  as  they  marched  through  the  street,  these  being;  direct 
ed  against  a  group  of  Americans  who  had  gathered  there.  A  cannon- 
ball  came  crashing  through  the  building,  and  crossed  a  staircase  just 
as  a  man  was  ascending  the  steps.  The  noise  and  the  splinters  over 
came  him  with  fright,  and  he  tumbled  to  the  bottom,  exclaiming — 
"  I'm  killed,  I'm  a  dead  man  !"  After  a  time,  however,  he  discovered 
that  he  was  unhurt,  and  thereupon  he  scampered  away,  and  did  not 
Btop  till  he  was  safe  in  the  adjoining  town  of  Wilton. 


22  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

of  the  peace,  town  librarian,  and  general  oracle  in 
auch  loose  matters  as  geography,  history,  and  law — • 
then  about  as  uncertain  and  unsettled  in  Kidgefield, 
as  is  now  the  fate  of  Sir  John  Franklin,  or  the 
longitude  of  Lilliput.  He  had  a  long,  lean  face; 
long,  lank,  silvery  hair,  and  an  unctuous,  whining 
voice.  With  these  advantages,  he  spoke  with  the 
authority  of  a  seer,  and  especially  in  all  things  re 
lating  to  the  revolutionary  war. 

The  agitating  scenes  of  that  event,  so  really  great 
in  itself,  so  unspeakably  important  to  the  country, 
had  transpired  some  five  and  twenty  years  before. 
The  existing  generation  of  middle  age,  had  all  wit 
nessed  it;  nearly  all  had  shared  in  its  vicissitudes. 
On  every  hand  there  were  corporals,  sergeants,  lieu 
tenants,  captains,  and  colonels — no  strutting  fops  in 
militia  buckram,  raw  blue  and  buff,  all  fuss  and  feath 
ers — but  soldiers,  men  who  had  seen  service  and  won 
laurels  in  the  tented  field.  Every  old  man,  every 
old  woman  had  stories  to  tell,  radiant  with  the  vivid 
realities  of  personal  observation  or  experience.  Some 
had  seen  Washington,  and  some  Old  Put ;  one  was 
at  the  capture  of  Ticonderoga  under  Ethan  Allen ; 
another  was  at  Bennington,  and  actually  heard  old 
Stark  say,  "  Victory  this  day,  or  my  wife  Molly  is  a 
widow !"  Some  were  at  the  taking  of  Stony  Point, 
and  others  in  the  sanguinary  struggle  of  Mon  mouth. 
One  had  witnessed  the  execution  of  Andre,  and  an 
other  had  been  present  at  the  capture  of  Burgoyne. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  23 

The  time  which  had  elapsed  since  these  events,  had 
served  only  to  magnify  and  glorify  these  scenes,  as 
well  as  the  actors,  especially  in  the  imagination  of 
the  rising  generation.  If  perchance  we  could  now 
dig  up,  and  galvanize  into  life,  a  contemporary  of 
Julius  Caesar,  who  was  present  and  saw  him  cross  the 
Eubicon,  and  could  tell  us  how  he  looked  and  what 
he  said — we  should  listen  with  somewhat  of  the 
greedy  wonder  with  which  the  boys  of  Ridgefield  list 
ened  to  Lieutenant  Smith,  when  of  a  Saturday  after 
noon,  seated  on  the  stoop  of  Keeler's  tavern,  he  dis 
coursed  upon  the  discovery  of  America  by  Columbus, 
Braddock's  defeat,  and  the  old  French  war — the  latter 
a  real  epic,  embellished  with  romantic  episodes  of  In 
dian  massacres  and  captivities.  When  he  came  to 
the  Revolution,  and  spoke  of  the  fight  at  Ridgefield, 
and  punctuated  his  discourse  with  a  present  cannon- 
ball,  sunk  six  inches  deep  in  a  corner-post  of  the  very 
house  in  which  we  sat,  you  may  well  believe  it  was 
something  more  than  words — it  was,  indeed;  "  action, 
action,  glorious  action  !"  How  little  can  people  nowa 
days — with  curiosity  trampled  down  by  the  march  of 
mind  and  the  schoolmaster  abroad — comprehend  or 
appreciate  these  things ! 


24  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER  III, 

The  first  Remembered  Eventr-ffigh  Ridge— The  Spy-glass— Sea  and    . 
Mountain— The  Peel— The  Black  Patch  in  the  road. 

MY  DEAR  0****** 

You  will  perhaps  forgive  me  for  a  little  circum 
locution,  in  the  outset  of  my  story.  My  desire  is  to 
carry  you  with  me  in  my  narrative,  and  make  you 
see  in  imagination,  what  I  have  seen.  This  naturally 
requires  a  little  effort — like  that  of  the  bird  in  rising 
from  the  ground,  which  turns  his  wing  first  to  the 
right  and  then  to  the  left,  vigorously  beating  the  at 
mosphere,  in  order  to  overcome  the  gravity  which 
weighs  the  body  down  to  earth,  ere  yet  it  feels  the 
quickening  impulse  of  a  conscious  launch  upon  the 
air. 

My  memory  goes  distinctly  back  to  the  year  1797, 
when  I  was  four  years  old.  At  that  time  a  great 
event  happened — great  in  the  near  and  narrow  hori 
zon  of  childhood :  we  removed  from  the  Old  House 
to  the  New  House !  This  latter,  situated  on  a  road 
tending  westward  and  branching  from  the  main 
street,  my  father  had  just  built ;  and  it  then  appeared 
to  me  quite  a  stately  mansion  and  very  beautiful,  in 
asmuch  as  it  was  painted  red  behind  and  white  in 
front — most  of  the  dwellings  thereabouts  being  of 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  25 

the  dun  complexion  which  pine-boards  and  chestnut- 
shingles  assume,  from  exposure  to  the  weather.  Long 
after — having  been  absent  twenty  years — I  revisited 
this  my  early  home,  and  found  it  shrunk  into  a  very 
small  and  ordinary  two-story  dwelling,  wholly  di 
vested  of  its  paint,  and  scarcely  thirty  feet  square. 

This  building,  apart  from  all  other  dwellings,  was 
situated  on  what  is  called  High  Ridge — a  long  hill, 
looking  down  upon  the  village,  and  commanding  an 
extensive  view  of  the  surrounding  country.  From 
our  upper  windows,  this  was  at  once  beautiful  and 
diversified.  On  the  south,  as  I  have  said,  the  hills 
sloped  in  a  sea  of  undulations  down  to  Long  Island 
Sound,  a  distance  of  some  fourteen  miles.  This  beau 
tiful  sheet  of  water,  like  a  strip  of  pale  sky,  with  the 
island  itself,  more  deeply  tinted,  beyond,  was  visible 
in  fair  weather,  for  a  stretch  of  sixty  miles,  to  the 
naked  eye.  The  vessels — even  the  smaller  ones, 
sloops,  schooners,  and  fishing  craft — could  be  seen, 
creeping  like  insects  over  the  surface.  With  a  spy 
glass — and  my  father  had  one  bequeathed  to  him  by 
Nathan  Kellogg,  a  sailor,  who  made  rather  a  rough 
voyage  of  life,  but  anchored  at  last  in  the  bosom 
of  the  church,  as  this  bequest  intimates — we  could 
see  the  masts,  sails,  and  rigging.  It  was  a  poor, 
dim  affair,  compared  with  modern  instruments  of 
the  kind;  but  to  me,  its  revelations  of  an  element 
which  then  seemed  as  beautiful,  as  remote,  and  as 
mystical  as  the  heavens,  surpassed  the  wondera  ot 

VOL.  I.— 2 


26  LETfERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

the  firmament  as  since  disclosed  to  my  mind  by  Lord 
Rosses  telescope. 

To  the  west,  at  the  distance  of  three  miles,  lay  the 
undulating  ridge  of  hills,  cliffs,  and  precipices  already 
mentioned,  and  which  bear  the  name  of  West  Moun 
tain.  They  are  some  five  hundred  feet  in  height,  and 
from  our  point  of  view  had  an  imposing  appearance. 
Beyond  them,  in  the  far  distance,  glimmered  the 
ghost-like  peaks  of  the  Highlands  along  the  Hudson. 
These  two  prominent  features  of  the  spreading  land 
scape — the  sea  and  the  mountain,  ever  present,  yet 
ever  remote — impressed  themselves  on  my  young 
imagination  with  all  the  enchantment  which  distance 
lends  to  the  view.  I  have  never  lost  my  first  love. 
Never,  even  now,  do  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  either  of 
these  two  rivals  of  nature,  such  as  I  first  learned 
them  by  heart,  but  I  feel  a  gush  of  emotion  as  if  I  had 
suddenly  met  with  the  cherished  companions  of  my 
childhood.  In  after  days,  even  the  purple  velvet  of 
the  Apennines  and  the  poetic  azure  of  the  Mediter 
ranean,  have  derived  additional  beauty  to  my  imagi 
nation  from  mingling  with  these  vivid  associations  of 
my  childhood. 

It  was  to  the  New  House,  then,  thus  situated,  that 
we  removed,  as  I  have  stated,  when  I  was  four  years 
old.  On  that  great  occasion,  every  thing  available 
for  draft  or  burden  was  put  in  requisition  ;  and  I  was 
permitted,  or  required,  I  forget  which,  to  carry  the 
peel  as  it  was  then  called,  but  which  would  now  bear 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDO'lICAL,  ETC.  27 

the  title  of  shovel.  Birmingham  had  not  then  been 
heard  of  in  those  parts,  or  at  least  was  a  great  way 
off;  so  this  particular  utensil  had  been  forged  ex 
pressly  for  my  father  by  David  Olmstead,  the  black 
smith,  as  was  the  custom  in  those  days.  I  recollect 
it  well,  and  can  state  that  it  was  a  sturdy  piece  of 
iron,  the  handle  being  four  feet  long,  with  a  hemi 
spherical  knob  at  the  end.  As  I  carried  it  along,  I 
doubtless  felt  a  touch  of  that  consciousness  of  power, 
which  must  have  filled  the  breast  of  Samson  as  he 
bore  oif  the  gates  of  Gaza.  I  recollect  perfectly  well 
to  have  perspired  under  the  operation,  for  the  dis 
tance  of  our  migration  was  half  a  mile,  and  the  season 
was  summer. 

One  thing  more  I  remember :  I  was  barefoot ;  and 
as  we  went  up  the  lane  which  diverged  from  the 
main  road  to  the  house,  we  passed  over  a  patch  of 
earth,  blackened  by  cinders,  where  my  feet  were  hurt 
by  pieces  of  melted  glass  and  metal.  I  inquired 
what  this  meant,  and  was  told  that  here  a  house  was 
burned  down*  by  the  British  troops  already  men- 

*  Lossing  says,  in  his  Field  Book,  p.  409,  vol.  i. :  "Having  repulsed 
the  Americans,  Tryon's  army  encamped  upon  high  ground,  about  a  mile 
south  of  the  Congregational  church  in  Kidgefield,  until  daylight  the  next 
morning,  when  they  resumed  their  march  toward  Norwalk  and  Compo, 
through  Wilton.  Four  dwellings  were  burned  in  Eidgefield,  and  other 
private  property  was  destroyed,  when  the  marauders  struck  their 
tents." 

The  "high  ground"  here  spoken  of  was  High  Eidge,  the  precise  spot 
where  the  house  I  have  described,  stood.  Doubtless  the  vestiges  here 
mentioned  were  those  of  one  of  the  four  houses  alluded  to. 


28  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

tioned — and  then  in  full  retreat — as  a  signal  to  the 
ships  that  awaited  them  on  the  Sound  where  they 
had  landed,  and  where  they  intended  to  embark. 

This  detail  may  seem  trifling,  but  it  is  not  without 
significance.  It  was  the  custom  in  those  days  for 
boys  to  go  barefoot  in  the  mild  season.  I  recollect 
few  things  in  life  more  delightful  than,  in  the  spring, 
to  cast  away  my  shoes  and  stockings,  and  have 
a  glorious  scamper  over  the  fields.  Many  a  time, 
contrary  to  the  express  injunctions  of  my  mother, 
have  I  stolen  this  bliss,  and  many  a  time  have  I  been 
punished  by  a  severe  cold  for  my  imprudence,  if  not 
my  disobedience.  Yet  the  bliss  then  seemed  a  com 
pensation  for  the  retribution.  In  these  exercises  I 
felt  as  if  stepping  on  air — as  if  leaping  aloft  on  wings. 
I  was  so  impressed  with  the  exultant  emotions  thus 
experienced,  that  I  repeated  them  a  thousand  times 
in  happy  dreams,  especially  in  my  younger  days. 
Even  now,  these  visions  sometimes  come  to  me  in 
sleep,  though  with  a  lurking  consciousness  that  they 
are  but  a  mockery  of  the  past — sad  monitors  of  the 
change  which  time  has  wrought  upon  me. 

As  to  the  black  patch  in  the  lane,  that  too  had  its 
meaning.  The  story  of  a  house  burned  down  by  a 
foreign  army,  seized  upon  my  imagination.  Every 
time  I  passed  the  place,  I  ruminated  upon  it,  and  put 
a  hundred  questions  as  to  how  and  when  it  hap 
pened.  I  was  soon  master  of  the  whole  story,  and  of 
other  similar  events  which  had  occurred  all  over  the 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  29 

country.     I  was  thus  initiated  into  the  spirit  of  that 
day,  and  which  has  never  wholly  subsided   in  our 
country,  inasmuch  as  the  war  of  the  Eevolution  was 
alike  unjust  in  its  origin,  and  cruel  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  waged.     It  was,  moreover,  fought  on 
our  own  soil,  thus  making  the  whole  people  share, 
personally,  in   its   miseries.      There  was   scarcely  a 
family  In  Connecticut  whom  it  did  not  visit,  either 
immediately  or  remotely,  with  the  shadows  of  mourn 
ing  and  desolation.      The  British  nation,  to  whom 
this   conflict  was  a  foreign  war,  are   slow  to  com 
prehend  the  depth  and  universality  of  the  popular 
dislike  of  England,  here  in  America.     Could  they 
know  the  familiar  annals  of  our  towns  and  villages — 
burned,  plundered,  sacked — with  all  the  attendant 
horrors,  for  the  avowed  purpose  of  punishing  a  na 
tion  of  rebels,  and  those  rebels  of  their  own  kith  and 
kin;  could  they  be  made  acquainted  with  the  deeds 
of  those  twenty  thousand  Hessians,  sent  hither  by 
King  George,  and  who  have  left  their  name  in  oirr 
language  as  a  word  signifying  brigands,  who  sell  their 
blood  and  commit  murder,  massacre,  and  rape  for 
hire :  could  they  thus  read  the  history  of  minds  and 
hearts,  influenced  at  the  fountains  of  life  for  several 
generations  —  they   would  .perhaps    comprehend,   if 
they  could    not  approve,    the   habitual    distrust   of 
British  influence,  which  lingers  among  our  people. 
At  least,  thus  instructed,  and  bearing  in  mind  what 
has  since  happened — another  war  with  England,  in 


30  LETTERS  —  BIOGRAPHICAL, 


our  own  territory  was  the  scene  of  conflict,  to 
gether  with  the  incessant  hostility  of  the  British  press 
toward  our  manners,  our  institutions,  our  policy,  our 
national  character,  manifested  in  every  form,  and 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  —  the  people  of  Eng- 
Lind  might  in  some  degree  comprehend  what  always 
strikes  them  with  amazemerit,  that  love  of  England 
is  not  largely  infused  into  our  national  character  and 
habits  of  thought. 


LETTER    IV. 

Eivcation  in  New  England — The  Burial  Ground  of  the  Suicide—  West 
Lane—OU  Ghichester—The  School- House— T he  First  Dai/  at  School- 
Aunt  Delujld — Lewis  Olmstead — A  Return,  after  Twenty  Years— Peter 
Parley  and  Mother  Goose. 

MY  DKAB   0****** 

The  devotion  of  the  New-England  people  to 
education  has  been  celebrated  from  time  immemorial. 
In  this  trait  of  character,  Connecticut  was  not  behind 
the  foremost  of  her  sister  puritans.  Now,  among  the 
traditions  of  the  days  to  which  my  narrative  refers, 
there  was  one  which  set  forth  that  the  law  of  the  land 
assigned  to  persons  committing  suicide,  a  burial-place 
where  four  roads  met.  I  do  not  recollect  that  this 
popular  notion  was  ever  tested  in  Ridgefield,  for 


HISTORICAL,  ANF.CDOTICAL,  KTC.  31 

nobody  in  those  innocent  days,  so  far  as  I  know, 
became  weary  of  existence.  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is 
certain  that  the  village  school-house  was  often  plant 
ed  in  the  very  spot  supposed  to  be  the  privileged 
graveyard  of  suicides.  The  reason  is  plain  enough : 
the  roads  were  always  of  ample  width  at  the  cross 
ings,  and  the  narrowest  of  these  spaces  was  sufficient 
for  the  little  brown  seminaries  of  learning.  At  the 
same  time — and  this  was  doubtless  the  material  point 
— the  land  belonged  to  the  town,  and  so  the  site 
would  cost  nothing.  Such  were  the  ideas  of  village 
education  in  enlightened  New  England  half  a  cen 
tury  ago.  Let  those  who  deny  the  progress  of  socie 
ty,  compare  this  with  the  state  of  things  at  the  pres 
ent  dajr. 

About  three-fourths  of  a  mile  from  my  father's 
house,  on  the  winding  road  to  Lower  Salem  which  I 
have  already  mentioned,  and  which  bore  the  name  of 
AVest  Lane,  was  the  school-house  where  I  took  my 
first  lessons,  and  received  the  foundations  of  my  very 
slender  education.  I  have  since  been  sometimes  asked 
where  I  graduated :  my  reply  has  always  been,  "  at 
West  Lane."  Generally  speaking,  this  has  ended  the 
inquiry,  whether  because  my  interlocutors  have  con 
founded  this  venerable  institution  with  "Lane  Sem 
inary,"  or  have  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  risk  an 
exposure  of  their  ignorance  as  to  the  college  in  which 
I  was  educated,  I  am  unable  to  say. 

The  site  of  the  school-house  was  a  triangular  piece 


32  LK1TKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

of  land,  measuring  perhaps  a  rood  in  extent,  and  ly 
ing,  according  to  the  custom  of  those  days,  at  the 
meeting  of  four  roads.  The  ground  hereabouts — as 
everywhere  else  in  Ridge  field — was  exceedingly  sto 
ny,  and  in  making  the  pathway  the  stones  had  been 
thrown  out  right  and  left,  and  there  remained  in 
1  ii-aps  on  either  side,  from  generation  to  generation. 
All  around  was  bleak  and  desolate.  Loose,  squat 
stone  walls,  with  innumerable  breaches,  inclosed  the 
adjacent  fields.  A  few  tufts  of  elder,  with  here  and 
there  a  patch  of  briers  and  pokeweed,  flourished  in 
the  gravelly  soil.  Not  a  tree,  however,  remained, 
save  an  aged  chestnut,  at  the  western  angle  of  the 
spncp.  This,  certainly,  had  not  been  spared  for 
shade  or  ornament,  but  probably  because  it  would 
have  cost  too  much  labor  to  cut  it  down,  for  it  was 
of  ample  girth.  At  all  events  it  was  the  oasis  in  our 
desert  during  summer ;  and  in  autumn,  as  the  burrs 
disclosed  its  fruit,  it  resembled  a  besieged  city.  The 
boys,  like  so  many  catapults,  hurled  at  it  stones  and 
sticks,  until  every  nut  had  capitulated. 

Two  houses  only  were  at  hand :  one,  surrounded 
by  an  ample  barn,  a  teeming  orchard,  and  an  enor 
mous  wood-pile,  belonged  to  Granther  Baldwin  ;  the 
other  was  the  property  of  "  Old  Chich-es-ter,"  an  un 
couth,  unsocial  being,  whom  everybody  for  some  rea 
son  or  other  seemed  to  despise  and  shun.  His  house 
was  of  stone  and  of  one  story.  He  had  a  cow,  which 
every  year  had  a  calf.  He  had  a  wife— filthy,  un- 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,   ETC.  33 

combed,  and  vaguely  reported  to  have  been  brought 
from  the  old  country.  This  is  about  the  whole  his 
tory  of  the  man,  so  far  as  it  is  written  in  the  authen 
tic  traditions  of  the  parish.  His  premises,  an  acre  in 
extent,  consisted  of  a  tongue  of  land  between  two  of 
the  converging  roads.  No  boy,  that  I  ever  heard  of, 
ventured  to  cast  a  stone,  or  to  make  an  incursion  into 
this  territory,  though  it  lay  close  to  the  school-house. 
I  have  often,  in  passing,  peeped  timidly  over  the 
walls,  and  caught  glimpses  of  a  stout  man  with  a 
drab  coat,  drab  breeches,  and  drab  gaiters,  glazed 
with  ancient  grease  and  long  abrasion,  prowling  about 
the  house ;  but  never  did  I  discover  him  outside  of 
his  own  dominion.  I  know  it  was  darkly  intimated 
that  he  had  been  a  tory,  and  was  tarred  and  feathered 
in  the  revolutionary  war,  but  as  to  the  rest  he  was  a 
perfect  myth.  Granther  Baldwin  was  a  character  no 
less  marked,  but  I  must  reserve  his  picture  for  a 
subsequent  letter. 

The  school-house  itself  consisted  of  rough,  unpaint- 
ed  clapboards,  upon  a  wooden  frame.  It  was  plas 
tered  within,  and  contained  two  apartments — a  little 
entry,  taken  out  of  a  corner  for  a  wardrobe,  and  the 
school-room  proper.  The  chimney  was  of  stone,  and 
pointed  with  mortar,  which,  by  the  way,  had  been  dug 
into  a  honeycomb  by  uneasy  a'nd  enterprising  pen 
knives.  The  fireplace  was  six  feet  wide  and  four  feet 
deep.  The  ilue  was  so  ample  and  so  perpendicular, 

that  the  rain,  sleet,  and  snow  fell  direct  to  the  hearth. 

o* 


34  I.KTTERS — BIOGItAI'HICAL, 

In  winter,  the  battle  for  life  with  green  fizzling 
fuel,  which  was  brought  in  sled  lengths  and  cut  up 
by  the  scholars,  was  a  stern  one.  Not  unfrequently, 
the  wood,  gushing  with  sap  as  it  was,  chanced  to  be 
out,  and  as  there  was  no  living  without  fire,  the  ther 
mometer  being  ten  or  twenty  degrees  below  zero,  the 
school  was  dismissed,  whereat  all  the  scholars  rejoiced 
aloud,  not  having  the  fear  of  the  schoolmaster  before 
their  eyes. 

It  was  the  custom  at  this  place,  to  have  a  woman's 
school  in  the  summer  months,  and  this  was  attended 
only  by  young  children.  It  was,  in  fact,  what  we 
now  call  a  primary  or  infant  school.  In  winter,  a 
man  was  employed  as  teacher,  and  then  the  girls  and 
boys  of  the  neighborhood,  up  to  the  age  of  eighteen, 
or  even  twenty,  were  among  the  pupils.  It  was  not 
uncommon,  at  this  season,  to  have  forty  scholars 
crowded  into  this  little  building. 

I  was  about  six  years  old  when  I  first  went  to 
school.  My  teacher  was  Aunt  Delight,  that  is,  De 
light  Benedict,  a  maiden  lady  of  fifty,  short  and  bent, 
of  sallow  complexion  and  solemn  aspect.  I  remem 
ber  the  first  day  with  perfect  distinctness.  I  went 
alone — for  I  was  familiar  with  the  road,  it  being  that 
which  passed  by  our  old  house.  I  carried  a  little 
basket,  with  bread  and  butter  within,  for  my  dinner, 
the  same  being  covered  over  with  a  white  cloth. 
When  I  had  proceeded  about  half  way,  I  lifted  the 
cover,  and  debated  whether  I  would  not  eat  niv  din- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  35 

ner,  then.  I  believe  it  was  a  sense  of  duty  only  that 
prevented  my  doing  so,  for  in  those  happy  days,  I 
always  had  a  keen  appetite.  Bread  and  butter  were 
then  infinitely  superior  to  pate  de  foie  gras  now;  but 
still,  thanks  to  my  training,  I  had  also  a  conscience. 
As  my  mother  had  given  me  the  food  for  dinner,  I 
did  not  think  it  right  to  convert  it  into  lunch,  even 
though  I  was  strongly  tempted. 

I  think  we  had  seventeen  scholars — boys  and  girls 
— mostly  of  my  own  age.  Among  them  were  some 
of  my  after  companions.  I  have  since  met  several  of 
them — one  at  Savannah,  and  two  at  Mobile,  respect 
ably  established,  and  with  families  around  them. 
Some  remain,  and  are  now  among  the  gray  old  men 
of  the  town  ;  the  names  of  others  I  have  seen  inscribed 
on  the  tombstones  of  their  native  village.  And  the 
rest — where  are  they  ? 

The  school  being  organized,  we  were  all  seated 
upon  benches,  made  of  what  were  called  slabs — that 
is.  boards  having  the  exterior  or  rounded  part  of  the 
log  on  one  side  :  as  they  were  useless  for  other  pur 
poses,  these  were  converted  into  school-benches,  the 
rounded  part  down.  They  had  each  four  supports, 
consisting  of  straddling  wooden  legs,  set  into  augur- 
holes.  Our  own  legs  swayed  in  the  air,  for  they 
were  too  short  to  touch  the  floor.  Oh,  what  an  awe 
fell  over  me,  when  we  were  all  seated  and  silence 
reigned  around! 

The  children  were  called  IP),  one  bv  one.  to  Aunt 


;><!  I.KTlTiKS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Delight,  who  sat  on  a  low  chair,  and  required  each, 
as  a  preliminary,  to  make  his  manners,  consisting  of 
a  small  sudden  nod  or  jerk  of  the  head.  She  then 
placed  the  spelling-book — which  was  Dilworth's — be 
fore  the  pupil,  and  with  a  buck-handled  penknife 
pointed,  one  by  one,  to  the  letters  of  the  alphabet, 
saying,  "  What's  that  ?"  If  the  child  knew  his  letters, 
the  "what's  that?"  very  soon  ran  on  thus: 

"What's  that?" 

"  A." 

'"Stha-a-t?" 

"  B." 

"Sna-a-a-t?" 

"  C." 

"Sna-a-a-t?" 

"D." 

"Sna-a-a-t?" 

"E."     &c. 

I  looked  upon  these  operations  with  intense  curi 
osity  and  no  small  respect,  until  my  own  turn  came. 
I  went  up  to  the  school-mistress  with  some  emotion, 
and  when  she  said,  rather  spitefully,  as  I  thought, 
"Make  your  obeisance!"  my  little  intellects  all  fled 
away,  and  I  did  nothing.  Having  waited  a  second, 
gazing  at  me  with  indignation,  she  laid  her  hand  on 
the  top  of  my  head,  and  gave  it  a  jerk  which  made 
my  teeth  clash.  I  believe  I  bit  my  tongue  a  little ; 
at  all  events,  my  sense  of  dignity  was  offended,  and 
when  she  pointed  to  A,  and  asked  what  it  was,  it 


AUNT  DELIGHT.     Vol.  1,  p.  3G. 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  «7 

swam  before  me  dim  and  hazy,  and  as  big  as  g  Aill 
moon.  She  repeated  the  question,  but  I  was  dogged 
ly  silent.  Again,  a  third  time,  she  said,  "What's 
that  ?"  I  replied :  "  Why  don't  you  tell  me  what  it 
is  ?  I  didn't  come  here  to  learn  you  your  letters !" 
I  have  not  the  slightest  remembrance  of  this,  for  my 
brains  were  all  a- woolgathering ;  but  as  Aunt  Delight 
affirmed  it  to  be  a  fact,  and  it  passed  into  a  tradition, 
I  put  it  in.  I  may  have  told  this  story  some  years 
ago-  in  one  of  my  books,  imputing  it  to  a  fictitious 
hero,  yet  this  is  its  true  origin,  according  to  my  rec 
ollection. 

What  immediately  followed  I  do  not  clearly  remem 
ber,  but  one  result  is  distinctly  traced  in  my  memory. 
In  the  evening  of  this  eventful  day,  the  school-mistress 
paid  my  parents  a  visit,  and  recounted  to  their  aston 
ished  ears  this,  my  awful  contempt  of  authority.  My 
father,  after  hearing  the  story,  got  up  and  went  away ; 
but  my  mother,  who  was  a  careful  disciplinarian,  told 
me  not  to  do  so  again !  I  always  had  a  suspicion 
that  both  of  them  smiled  on  one  side  of  their  faces, 
even  while  they  seemed  to  sympathize  with  the  old 
petticoat  and  pen-knife  pedagogue,  on  the  other ;  still 
I  do  not  affirm  it,  for  I  am  bound  to  say,  of  both  my 
parents,  that  I  never  knew  them,  even  in  trifles,  say 
one  thing  while  they  meant  another. 

I  believe  I  achieved  the  alphabet  that  summer,  but 
my  after  progress,  for  a  long  time,  I  do  not  remember. 
Two  vears  later  I  went  to  the  winter-school  at  the 


38  LKTTERS BIOGRAPIIICAT.. 

same  place,  kept  by  Lewis  Olmstead — a  man  who  had 
a  call  for  plowing,  mowing,  carting  manure,  &c.,  in 
summer,  and  for  teaching  school  in  the  winter,  with 
a  talent  for  music  at  all  seasons,  wherefore  he  became 
chorister  upon  occasion,  when,  peradventure,  Deacon 
Hawley  could  not  officiate.  He  was  a  celebrity  in 
ciphering,  and  'Squire  Seymour  declared  that  he  was 
the  greatest  "arithmeticker"  in  Fairfield  county.  All 
I  remember  of  his  person  is  his  hand,  which  seemed 
to  me  as  big  as  Goliah's,  judging  by  the  claps  of 
thunder  it  made  in  my  ears  on  one  or  two  occa 
sions. 

The  next  step  of  my  progress  which  is  marked  in 
my  memory,  is  the  spelling  of  words  of  two  syllables. 
I  did  not  go  very  regularly  to  school,  but  by  the  time 
I  was  ten  years  old  I  had  learned  to  write,  and  had 
made  a  little  progress  in  arithmetic.  There  was  not 
a  grammar,  a  geography,  or  a  history  of  any  kind  in 
the  school.  Beading,  writing,  and  arithmetic  were  the 
only  things  taught,  and  these  very  indifferently — not 
wholly  from  the  stupidity  of  the  teacher,  but  because 
he  had  forty  scholars,  and  the  standards  of  the  age  re 
quired  no  more  than  he  performed.  I  did  as  well  as 
the  other  scholars,  certainly  no  better.  I  had  excel 
lent  health  and  joyous  spirits;  in  leaping,  running, 
and  wrestling  I  had  but  one  superior  of  my  age,  and 
that  was  Stephen  Olmstead,  a  snug-built  fellow,  small 
er  than  myself,  and  who,  despite  our  rivalry,  was 
my  chosen  friend  and  companion,  I  seemed  to  live 


mSTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  39 

for  play:  alas!  how  the  world  has  changed  since  I 
have  discovered  that  we  live  to  agonize  over  study, 

work,  care,  ambition,  disappointment,  and  then ? 

As  I  shall  not  have  occasion  again,  formally,  to  in 
troduce  this  seminary  into  my  narrative,  I  may  as 
well  close  my  account  of  it  now.  After  I  had  left 
my  native  town  for  some  twenty  years,  I  returned 
and  paid  it  a  visit.  Among  the  monuments  that, 
stood  high  in  my  memory  was  the  West  Lane  school  - 
house.  Unconsciously  carrying  with  me  the  meas 
ures  of  childhood,  I  had  supposed  it  to  be  at  least 
thirty  feet  square ;  how  had  it  dwindled  when  I 
came  to  estimate  it  by  the  new  standards  I  had 
formed  !  It  was  in  all  things  the  same,  yet  wholly 
changed  to  me.  What  I  had  deemed  a  respectable 
edifice,  as  it  now  stood  before  me  was  only  a  weather- 
beaten  little  shed,  which,  upon  being  measured,  I 
found  to  be  less  than  twenty  feet  square.  It  happen 
ed  to  be  a  warm,  summer  day,  and  I  ventured  to  enter 
the  place.  I  found  a  girl,  some  eighteen  years  old, 
keeping  a  ma'am  school  for  about  twenty  scholars, 
some  of  whom  were  studying  Parley's  Geography. 
The  mistress  was  the  daughter  of  one  of  my  school 
mates,  and  some  of  the  boys  and  girls  were  grand 
children  of  the  little  brood  which  gathered  under  the 
wing  of  Aunt  Delight,  when  I  was  an  a-b-c-clarian. 
None  of  them,  not  even  the  school- mistress,  had  ever 
heard  of  me.  The  name  of  my  father,  as  having  min 
istered  unto  the  people  of  Ridgefield  in  some  bygone 


40  LKTTKRS BIOGIMrilJCAL, 

age,  was  faintly  traced  in  their  recollection.  As  to 
Peter  Parley,  whose  geography  they  were  learning — • 
they  supposed  him  some  decrepit  old  gentleman  hob 
bling  about  on -a  crutch,  a  long  way  off,  for  whom, 
nevertheless,  they  hfd  a  certain  affection,  inasmuch 
as  he  had  made  geography  into  a  story-book.  The 
frontispiece-picture  ^)f  the  old  fellow,  with  his  gouty 
foot  in  a  chair,  threatening  the  boys  that  if  they 
touched  his  tender  toe,  he  would  tell  them  no  more 
stories — secured  their  respect,  and  placed  him  among 
the  saints  in  the  calendar  of  their  young  hearts. 
Well,  thought  I,  if  this  goes  on  I  may  yet  rival 
Mother  Goose ! 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  4] 


LETTER  V, 

The  Joyous  Nature  of  Childhood— Drawbacks — The  Small-pox — The  Pent 
House — Our  House  a  Hospital — Inoculation, — TJie  Force  of  Early  Im 
pressions — Roger*?  Pleasures  of  Memory — My  First  Whistle— My  iSV.s-- 
ter's  Recollections  of  a  Sunday  Afternoon — The  Song  of  Kalewala — 
Poetic  Character  of  Early  Life — Obligations  to  make  Childhood  Happy 
— Beautiful  Instinct  of  Mothers — Improvements  in  the  Training  of  Chil 
dren  Suggested — 'Example  of  our  Saviour — The  Family  a  Divine  Insti 
tution — Christian  Marriage. 

MY  DEAR  C  ****** 

I  hope  you  will  not  imagine  that  I  am  thinking 
too  little  of  your  amusement  and  too  much  of  my 
own,  if  I  stop  a  few  moments  to  note  the  lively  rec 
ollections.  I  entertain  of  the  joyousness  of  my  early 
life,  and  not  of  mine  only,  but  that  of  my  playmates 
and  companions.  In  looking  back  to  those  early 
days,  the  whole  circle  of  the  seasons  seems  to  me 
almost  like  one  unbroken  morning  of  pleasure. 

I  was  of  course  subjected  to  the  usual  crosses  in 
cident  to  my  age — those  painful  and  mysterious  vis 
itations  sent  upon  children — the  measles,  mumps, 
whooping-cough,  and  the  like — usually  regarded  as 
retributions  for  the  false  step  of  our  mother  Eve  in 
the  Garden  ;  but  they  have  almost  passed  from  my 
memory,  as  if  overflowed  and  borne  away  by  the 
general  drift  of  happiness  which  filled  my  bosom. 
Among  these  calamities,  one  monument  alone  re 
mains — the  small-pox.  It  was  in  the  year  1798,  as  I 


12  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

well  remember,  that  my  father's  house  was  converted 
into  a  hospital,  or,  as  it  was  then  called,  a  upest- 
aouse,"  where,  with  some  dozen  other  children,  I 
was  inoculated  for  this  disease,  then  the  scourge  and 
terror  of  the  world. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Jenner  published  his 
first  memoir  upon  vaccination  about  this  period,  but 
his  discoveries  were  generally  repudiated  as  mere 
charlatanism,  for  some  time  after.  There  were  regu 
lar  small-pox  hospitals  in  different  parts  of  New  Eng 
land,  usually  in  isolated  situations,  so  as  not  to  risk 
dissemination  of  the  dreaded  infection.  One  of  these, 
and  quite  the  most  celebrated  of  its  time,  had  been 
established  by  my  maternal  grandfather  upon  Duck 
Island,  lying  off  the  present  town  of  West  Brook — 
then  called  Pochaug — in  Long  Island  Sound;  but  it 
had  been  destroyed  by  the  British  during  the  Revolu 
tion,  and  was  never  revived.  There  was  one  upon  the 
northern  shore  of  Long  Island,  and  doubtless  many 
others  ;  but  as  it  was  often  inconvenient  to  send  chil 
dren  to  these  places,  several  families  would  unite  and 
convert  one  house,  favorably  situated,  into  a  tempo 
rary  hospital,  for  the  inoculation  of  such  as  needed 
it.  It  was  in*  pursuance  of  this  custom  that  our  hab- 
ita:ion  was  selected,  on  the  present  occasion,  as  the 
scene  of  this  somewhat  awful  process. 

There  were  many  circumstances  which  contributed 
to  impress  this  event  upon  my  mind.  In  the  first 
place,  there  was  a  sort  of  popular  horror  of  the  "  pest- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  43 

house,"  not  merely  because  of  the  virulent  nature  of 
small-pox,  but  because  of  a  common  superstitious 
feeling  in  the  community — though  chiefly  confined 
to  the  ignorant  classes — that  voluntarily  to  create 
the  disease,  was  contrary  to  nature,  and  a  plain  tempt 
ing  of  Providence.  In  their  view,  if  death  ensued,  it 
was  esteemed  little  better  than  murder.  Thus,  as  our 
house  was  being  put  in  order  for  the  coming  scene, 
and  as  the  subjects  of  the  fearful  experiment  were 
gathering  in,  a  gloom  pervaded  all  countenances,  and 
its  shadow  naturally  fell  upon  me. 

The  lane  in  which  our  house  was  situated  was  fenced 
up,  north  and  south,  so  as  to  cut  off  all  intercourse 
with  the  world  around.  A  flag  was  raised,  and  upon 
it  were  inscribed  the  ominous  words  |5ir"  "SMALL- 
pox."  My  uncle  and  aunt,  from  New  Haven,  arrived 
with  their  three  children.*  Half  a  dozen  others  of 
the  neighborhood  were  gathered  together,  making, 
with  our  own  children,  somewhat  over  a  dozen 
subjects  for  the  experiment.  When  all  was  ready, 
like  Noah  and  his  family  we  were  shut  in.  Pro 
visions  were  deposited  in  a  basket  at  a  point  agreed 
upon,  down  the  lane.  Thus,  we  were  cut  off  from 
the  world,  excepting  only  that  Dr.  Perry,  the  physi 
cian,  ventured  to  visit  us  in  our  fell  dominion. 

As  to  myself,  the  disease  passed  lightly  over,  leav- 

*  Elizur  Goodrich,  now  of  Hartford  ;  Professor  Channcey  A.  Good 
rich,  iiow  of  Yale  College;  and  the  late  Mrs.  Nancy  Ellsworth,  wifo 
of  II.  L.  Ellsworth,  former  Commissioner  of  Patents,  at  Washington. 


44  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ing,  however,  its  indisputable  autographs  upon  va 
rious  parts  of  my  body.*  Were  it  not  for  these 
testimonials,  I  should  almost  suspect  that  I  had  es 
caped  the  disease,  for  I  only  remember,  among  my 
symptoms  and  my  sufferings,  a  little  headache,  and 
the  privation  of  salt  and  butter  upon  my  hasty-pud 
ding.  My  restoration  to  these  privileges  I  distinctly 
recollect  :  doubtless  these  gave  me  more  pleasure 
than  the  clean  bill  of  health  which  they  implied. 
Several  of  the  patients  suffered  severely,  and  among 
them  my  brother  and  one  of  my  cousins.  The  latter, 
in  a  recent  conversation  upon  the  subject,  claimed 
the  honor  of  two  thousand  pustules,  and  was  not  a 
little  humbled  when,  by  documentary  evidence,  they 
were  reduced  to  two  hundred. 

Yet,  while  it  is  evident  that  I  was  subjected  to 
the  usual  drawbacks  upon  the  happiness  of  child 
hood,  these  were,  in  fact,  so  few  as  to  have  passed 
away  from  my  mind,  leaving  in  my  memory  only 
the  general  tide  of  life,  seeming,  as  I  look  back,  to 
have  been  one  bright  current  of  enjoyment,  flowing 

*  It  may  not  be  useless  to  state,  in  passing,  that  in  1S50,  one  of  my 
family,  who  had  been  vaccinated  thirty  years  before,  was  attacked  by 
varioloid.  It  being  deemed  advisable  that  all  of  MS  should  be  vacci 
nated,  I  was  subjected  to  the  process,  and  this  took  such  effect  upon 
me  that  I  had  a  decided  fever,  with  partial  delirium,  for  two  days  ;  thus 
showing  my  accessibility  to  the  infection  of  small-pox.  Here  then  was 
evidence  that  both  vaccination  and  inoculation  are  not  perpetual  guar 
antees  asrainst  this  disease — a  fact,  indeed,  now  fully  admittea  by  the 
medical  faculty.  The  doctrine  is,  that  the  power  of  these  preventives 
becomes,  at  last,  worn  out,  and  therefore  prudence  dictates  repet* 
tion  of  vaccination  after  about  ten  vears. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  45 

amid  flowers,  and  all  in  the  company  of  companions 
as  happy  and  j  ubilant  as  myself.  By  a  beautiful  al 
chemy  of  the  heart,  the  clouds  of  early  life  appear  after 
ward  to  be  only  accessories  to  the  universal  spring 
tide  of  pleasure.  Even  this  dark  episode  of  the  pest- 
house,  stands  in  my  memory  as  rather  an  interesting 
event,  partly  because  there  was  something  strange 
and  romantic  about  it,  and  partly  because  it  is  the 
office  of  the  imagination  to  gild  with  sunshine  even 
the  clouds  of  the  past. 

In  all  this,  my  experience  was  in  no  way  peculiar  : 
I  was  but  a  representation  of  childhood  in  all  coun 
tries  and  ages.  I  do  not  forget  the  instances  in 
which  children  are  subjected  to  misfortune,  nor  the 
moral  obliquity  which  is  in  every  childish  heart. 
But  making  due  allowance  for  the  shadows  thus  cast 
upon  the  spring  of  life,  its  general  current  is  such  as 
I  have  described. 

It  has  been  oracularly  said  that  the  child  is  father 
of  the  man.  If  it  is  meant  that  men  fulfill  the  prom 
ises  of  childhood,  it  is  not  true  ;  for  so  far  as  my  ob 
servation  goes,  not  one  child  in  five,  when  grown  up, 
is  altogether  what  was  expected  of  him.  If  it  is  meant 
that  the  influences  operating  upon  children  ordinarily 
determine  their  future  fate,  it  is  doubtless  correct ; 
though  I  may  remark,  by  the  way,  that  it  is  rather  an 
obscure  mode  of  saying  what  had  been  happily  ex- 
presed  by  Solomon,  thousands  of  years  ago. 

But  why  is  it  that  early  impressions  are  thus  wing- 


46  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHIC  A  I,, 

ed  with  fate  ?  Partly  because  of  the  plastic  character 
of  young  life,  and  partly  also  because  of  the  vivid 
ness,  sincerity,  and  intensity  of  its  conceptions.  And 
these,  be  it  remembered,  are  always  pleasurable,  un 
less  some  extraneous  incident  or  accident  intervenes 
to  thwart  the  tendency  of  nature.  The  heart  of  child 
hood  as  readily  inclines  to  flow  in  a  current  of  enjoy 
ment,  as  water  to  run  down  hill.  Hence  it  is,  that  in 
a  majority  of  cases,  or  at  least  in  a  large  proportion 
of  cases,  the  remembrances  of  childhood  are  like  those 
I  have  described — not  only  vivid  and  glowing,  but 
cheerful  and  joyous. 

As  to  this  fullness  and  intensity  of  youthful  im 
pressions,  every  mind  can  furnish  examples  :  all  true 
poets  recognize  it ;  most  celebrate  it.  Who  can  not 
remember  particular  places — such  as  hillsides,  val 
leys,  lawns ;  particular  things — as  rocks,  trees,  brooks ; 
particular  times  and  seasons  —  which  have  become 
fixed  in  the  mind,  and  consecrated  in  the  heart  for 
all  future  time,  by  association  with  the  ardent  and 
glowing  thoughts  or  experiences  of  childhood  ?  Often 
a  single  incident,  one  momentary  impression,  is  in 
delibly  stamped  as  upon  a  die  of  steel.  Let  me 
take  an  example  in  my  own  childish  remembrance. 
There  was  a  willow-tree  near  my  father's  house, 
which  was  graven  on  my  memory  by  a  particular 
circumstance :  from  this  my  brother  cut  a  branch 
and  made- me  a  whistle  of  it — the  first  I  remember 
to  have  possessed.  The  form  of  this  tree,  and  all 


HISTORICAL,  AJN'ECDOTIOAL,  KTC.  47 

the  surrounding  objects,  as  well  as  the  day  oJ  the 
week  and  the  season  of  the  year,  have  lived  from 
that  hour  in  rny  memory. .  In  a  similar  way,  I  re 
member  a  multitude  of  other  familiar  objects,  all 
suggesting  similar  associations  and  recollections. 
Rogers,  in  his  beautiful  poem,  the  "Pleasures  of 
Memory,"  recognizes  this  vividness  of  early  impres 
sions,  in  supposing  a  person,  after  an  absence  of 
many  years,  to  visit  the  site  of  the  school-house  of 
his  early  days — now  in  decay  and  ruin.  As  he  passes 
over  the  place, 

"  Up  springs,  at  every  step,  to  claim  a  tear, 
Some  little  friendship  form'd  in  childhood  here ; 
And  not  the  lightest  leaf  but  trembling  teems 
With  golden  visions  and  romantic  dreams." 

I  was  recently  conversing  with  my  sister  M 

upon  this  subject,  and  entertaining  the  views  I  have 
here  expressed,  she  recited  to  me,  as  illustrative  of 
her  experience,  some  lines  she  had  composed  several 
years  ago,  but  which  she  had  not  thought  worth 
committing  to  paper.  I  requested  a  copy,  which 
she  furnished  me,  and  I  here  insert  them.  They 
are  designed  to  express  the  thoughts  suggested  by 
the  recollection  of  a  particular  family  scene,  oi  a  Sun 
day  afternoon,  which,  for  some  reason  or  other,  had 
been  indelibly  impressed  upon  her  young  mind. 


48  LETTEKS BIOGKAl'HICAL, 


A    REMEMBERED    SABBATH    EVENING    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD. 

Oh !  let  me  weave  one  song  to-night, 

For  the  spell  is  on  me  now ; 
And  thoughts  come  thronging  thick  and  bright, 
All  fresh  and  rosy  with  the  light 

Of  childhood's  early  glow. 

They  hurry  from  out  the  forgotten  past, 
Through  the  gathered  mist  of  years — 
From  the  halls  of  Memory,  dim  and  vast, 
Where  they  have  buried  lain  in  the  shadows  cast 
By  recent  joy  or  fears. 

Say  not  mine  is  a  thoughtful  brow, 

Furrow'd  by  care  and  pain ; 
My  childhood's  curls  seem  over  it  now, 
As  they  lay  there  years  and  years  ago — 

And  I  am  a  child  again. 

And  I  am  again  in  my  childhood's  home, 

Which  looks  on  the  distant  sea ; 
And  the  loved  and  lost — they  come — they  come ! 
To  the  old  but  well-remember'd  room, 

And  I  sit  by  my  father's  knee. 

'Tis  the  Sabbath  evening  hour  of  prayer  ; 

And  in  the  accustom'd  place 
Is  my  Father,  with  calm,  benignant  air  : 
Each  brother  and  sister  too  is  there, 

And  my  Mother,  with  stately  grace. 

And  with  the  rest  comes  a  dark-eyed  child — 

The  youngest  of  all  is  she, 
Bringing  her  friend  and'  playmate  wild 
In  her  dimpled  arms,  and  with  warnings  mild 

Checking  ite  sportive  glee. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  4S} 

And  well  could  my  young  heart  sympathize 

With  all  I  saw  her  do  : 

With  the  thought  which  danced  in  those  laughing  eyes, 
Veil'd  by  a  look  demure  and  wise, — 

That  her  kitten  should  join  the  service  too. 

And  though  glad!  came  at  my  father's  call, 

My  thoughts  had  much  to  do 
With  the  whispering  leaves  of  the  poplar  tall, 
And  the  checker'd  light  on  the  white wash'd  wall, 

And  the  pigeons'  loving  coo. 

And  I  watch'd  the  banish'd  kitten's  bound, 

As  it  frolick'd  to  and  fro ; 
And  wish'd  the  spyglass  could  be  found, 
That  I  might  see  on  the  distant  Sound 

The  tall  ships  come  and  go. 

Through  the  open  door  my  stealthy  gaze 

Sought  the  shadows,  long  and  still ; 
When  sudden  the  sun's  departing  rays 
Set  the  church  windows  all  a-blaze, 

On  Greenfield's*  distant  hill. 

But  new  and  wondering  thoughts  awoke, 

Like  morning  from  the  night, 
As,  with  deeply  reverent  voice  and  look, 
My  father  read  from  the  Holy  Book, 

By  that  Sabbath's  waning  light. 

He  read  of  Creation's  early  birth — 

This  vast  and  wondrous  frame — 
How  "  in  the  beginning"  the  Heavens  and  Earth 
From  the  formless  void  were  order'd  forth, 

And  how  they  obedient  came. 

*  From  our  windows  we  could  not  only  see  the  church  spire  of  Green 
field  Hill,  but  the  spires  of  several  other  churches  in  the  far  distano«- 

VOL.  T.— 3 


50  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

How  Darkness  lay  like  a  heavy  pall 

On  the  face  of  the  silent  deep, 
Till,  answering  to  the  Almighty  call, 
Light  came,  and  spread,  and  waken'd  all 

From  that  deep  and  brooding  sleep. 

Oh  !  ever  as  sinks  the  Sabbath  son 

In  the  glowing  summer  skies, 
My  father's  voice,  my  mother's  look, 
Blent  with  the  words  of  the  Holy  Book, 

Upon  my  memory  rise. 

For  then  were  traced  on  the  mystic  scroll 

Of  deathless  imagery, 
Deep  hidden  within  my  secret  sou], 
Which  eternity  only  will  fully  unroll — 

Some  lines  of  my  destiny ! 

The  impressibility  of  youth,  and  the  depth  and 
earnestness  of  its  conceptions,  are  beautifully  sug 
gested  in  the  opening  passage  of  the  famous  Finnish 
poem,  the  epic  song  of  Kalewala.  Th?  lines  are  as 
follows : 

"  These  the  words  we  have  received— 
These,  the  songs  we  do  inherit, 
Are  of  Wainamoimen's  girdle — 
From  the  forge  of  Ilmarinen, 
Of  the  sword  of  Kankomieli, 
Of  the  bow  of  Yonkanhainen, 
Of  the  borders  of  the  North-fields, 
Of  the  plains  of  Kalewala. 

"  These  my  father  sang  aforetime, 
As  he  chipped  the  hatchet's  handle  ; 
These  were  taught  me  by  my  mother 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  51 

As  she  twirled  her  flying  spindles, 
When.  I  on  the  floor  was  sporting, 
Round  her  knee  was  gayly  dancing, 
As  a  pitiable  weakling — 
As  a  weakling  small  of  stature. 
Never  failed  these  wondrous  stories, 
Told  of  Sampo,  told  of  Louhi  : 
Old  grew  Sampo  in  the  stories ; 
Louhi  vanished  with  her  magic  ; 
In  the  songs  Wiunen  perished : 
In  the  play  died  Lemminkainen. 

"  There  are  many  other  stories, 
Magic  sayings  which  I  learned, 
Which  I  gathered  by  the  wayside, 
Culled  amid  the  heather-blossoms, 
Rifled  from  the  bushy  copses. 
From  the  bending  twigs  I  pluck'd  them, 
Plucked  them  from  the  tender  grasses, 
When  a  shepherd-boy  I  sauntered, 
As  a  lad  upon  the  pastures, 
On  the  honey-bearing  meadows, 
On  the  gold-illumined  hillock, 
Following  black  Muurikki 
At  the  side  of  spotted  Kimmo. 

"  Songs  the  very  coldness  gave  me, 
Music  found  I  in  the  rain-drops  ; 
Other  songs  the  winds  brought  to  me, 
Other  songs,  the  ocean-billows ; 
Birds,  by  singing  in  the  branches, 
And  the  tree-top  spoke  in  whispers." 

Thus  in  early  life  all  nature  is  poetry :  childhood 
and  youth,  are  indeed  one  continuous  poem.  In  most 
cases  this  ecstasy  of  emotion  and  conception  passes 


52  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

away  without  our  special  notice.     A  large  portion  of 
it  dies  out  from  the  memory,  but  passages  are  writ- 
ten  upon  the  heart  in  lines  of  light  and  power,  that 
can  not  be  effaced.     These  become  woven  into  the 
texture  of  the  soul,  and  give  character  to  it  for  time- 
perchance  for  eternity.     The  whole  fountain  of  the 
mind,  like  some  mineral  spring,  reaching  to  the  in 
terior  elements  of  the  earth— is  imbued  with  ingre 
dients  which  make  its  current  sweet  or  bitter  forever. 
Pray   excuse  me  for  making  a  few  suggestions 
upon   these  facts— even  if  they  seem  like  sermon 
izing.     If  early  life  is   thus  happy  in    its    general 
current— in  its  nature    and  tendency— surely  it  is 
well  and  wise  for  those  who  have  the  care  of  chil 
dren,  to  see  in  it  the  design  of  the  Creator,  and  to 
follow  the  lead  He  has  thus  given.    If  God  places  our 
offspring  in  Eden,  let  us  not  causeless  or  carelessly 
take  them  out  of  it.     It  is  certainly  a  mistake  to  con 
sider  childhood  and  youth— the  first  twenty  years  of 
life— as  only  a  period  of  constraint  and  discipline. 
This  is  one-third  part  of  existence— to  a  majority,  it 
is  more  than  the  half  of  life.     It  is  the  only  portion 
which  seems  made  for  unalloyed  enjoyment.     It  is 
the  morning,  and  all  is  sunshine :  the  after  part  of 
the  day  is  necessarily  devoted  to  toil  and  care,  and 
that  too  amid  clouds,  and  at  last,  beneath  the  shadows 
of  approaching  night.     Let  us  not,  then,  presume  to 
mar  this  birthright  of  bliss. 

You  will  not  suspect  me  to  mean  that  government, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  53 

discipline,  instruction,  are  to  be  withheld.  These 
are  indispensable,  but  they  should  all  be  reconciled 
with  the  happy  flow  of  life.  This  is,  in  fact,  often 
attained  by  the  instinct  of  mothers,  whom  God  has 
given  grace  to  combine  government  and  indulgence, 
discipline  and  encouragement  in  such  happy  mixture 
and  measure,  as  to  check  the  weeds,  and  foster  the 
fruits,  of  the  soul.  It  is  not  always  done  :  it  is 
not  done  perfectly,  perhaps,  in  a  single  case.  Yet  I 
can  not  doubt  that — despite  all  the  difficulties  which 
poverty,  and  ignorance,  and  sin  impose  upon  the 
world — a  majority  of  mothers  do  in  fact  temper  their 
conduct  to  their  children,  so  as,  on  the  whole,  to 
exercise,  in  a  large  degree,  a  saving,  redeeming,  re 
generating  influence  upon  them. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  room  for  improvement.  There 
are  too  many  persons  who  look  upon  children  as  rep 
robate — too  many  who  regard  the  rod  as  the  rule,  not 
the  exception.  Some  imagine  that  the  whole  busi 
ness  of  education  lies  in  study,  and  that  to  cram  the 
mind  is  to  enrich  it.  Some,  indeed,  are  indifferent, 
and  think  even  less  of  the  moral  growth  and  improve 
ment  of  their  children,  than  they  do  of  the  growth 
and  improvement  of  their  cattle.  I  think  there  are 
still  others,  who  dislike  children — who  are  annoyed 
by  their  presence,  impatient  of  their  little  caprices, 
and  regardless  of  their  virtues ;  who  only  see  their 
foibles,  and  would  always  confine  them  to  the  nur 
sery.  Even  the  Disciples  of  Christ  seem  not  to 


54  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

have  been  superior  to  this  common  feeling.  The  an 
swer  of  our  Saviour  was  at  once  a  rebuke  and  a  les 
son.  "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me, 
and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  There  is  profound  theology — there  is  deep, 
touching,  divine  humanity  in  this.  Children  are 
not  reprobate:  they  are  docile  and  teachable,  with 
thoughts  and  emotions  so  pure  as  to  breathe  of  heav 
en.  They  are  cheerful,  happy ;  their  presence  was 
healthful,  even  to  the  "  Man  of  Sorrows  and  acquaint 
ed  with  grief!" 

It  is  in  this  last  aspect  that  I  particularly  wish  to 
present  this  subject.  Children,  no  doubt,  impose  bur 
dens  upon  their  parents.  No  words  can  express  the 
weight  of  care  which  often  presses  upon  the  heart  of 
the  mother — in  the  deep  watches  of  the  night,  in  mo 
ments  of  despondency,  in  periods  of  feeble  health,  in 
the  pinches  of  poverty,  in  the  trying,  dark  days  of  the 
spirit — as  to  the  future  prospects  of  her  offspring. 
Anxieties  for  their  welfare,  temporal  and  eternal, 
often  seem  to  wring  the  very  heart,  drop  by  drop,  of 
its  blood.  And  yet,  all  things  considered,  children 
are  the  great  blessing  of  the  household.  They  im 
pose  cares,  but  they  elevate  all  hearts  around  them. 
They  cultivate  unselfish  and  therefore  purifying  feel 
ings  :  they  cheer  the  old,  by  reviving  recollections  of 
early  life :  they  excite  the  young,  by  kindly  fellow 
ship  and  emulous  sympathy.  Without  children,  the 
world  would  be  like  a  forest  of  old  oaks,  gnarled, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  55 

groaning,  and  fretful  in  the  desolation  of  winter.  For 
myself,  I  can  say,  that  children  are  the  best  of  play 
mates  when  I  am  well  with  the  world,  and  they  are 
the  best  of  medicine,  when  I  am  sick  and  weary  of  it. 
It  is  children,  here  in  the  family,  that  are  thus  a 
blessing  :  not  the  children  of  a  community,  as  in 
Sparta,  for  there  they  were  educated  to  crime.  In 
every  community,  where  they  are  not  the  charge  of 
the  parents,  and  especially  of  the  mother,  they  would, 
I  think,  infallibly  become  reprobates.  The  family 
seems  to  me  a  divine  institution.  Marriage,  sanc 
tioned  by  religion,  is  its  bond :  children  its  fruition. 
No  statesman,  no  founder  of  a  religion,  no  reform 
er — after  innumerable  attempts — has  given  the  world 
a  substitute  for  Christian  Marriage  and  that  insti 
tution  which  follows — the  Family.  It  is,  up  to  this 
era  of  our  world,  the  anchor  of  society,  the  fountain 
of  love  and  hope  and  dignity  in  man  and  human 
society.  Those  who  attempt  to  overturn  it,  are,  T 
think,  working  against  the  Almighty. 


5(5  TJ:TTKKS — BIOGRAPHICAL. 


LETTER   VI. 

The  Inner  Life  of  Tottms—  Physical  Aspect  and  Character  of  Eidgejkld— 
Effects  of  Cultivation  vjton  Climate— Energetic  Character  of  the  First 
Settlers  of  Ridgejield—  Classes  f>f  the  People  as  to  Descent — Their  Oc 
cupations — Newspapers — Position  of  my  Father's  Family — Management 
of  the  Farm — Domestic  Economy — Mechanical  Professions — Bttf  and 
Pork—Tht  Thanksgioing  Turkey— Bread— Fuel— Flint  and  Steel- 
Friction  Matches — Prof.  Sittiman — Pyroligntous  Acid — Maple  Sugar — 
/?«m — Dram-drinking — Tansey  Bitters— Brandy —  Whisky — The  First 
".SWU" — Wine — Dr.  £.'*  Sacramental  Wine — Domestic  Products — 
Bread  and  Butter  —  Linen  and  Woolen  Cloth  —  Cotton  —  flax  and 
Wool — The  LittU  Spinning-toheel — Sally  St.  John  and  the  Rat-trap — 
Manufacture  of  Wool— Molly  Gregory  and  Faying  Tunes — The  Tanner 
and  Hatter — The  Revolving  Slioetnaker — Whipping  the  Cat — Carpets 
— Coverlids  and  (Juiltings —  Village  Bees  and  Raisings — The  Mieting- 
Jtou.se  that  was  destroyed  by  Lightning — Deaconing  a  Hymn. 

MY  PEAK  0****** 

It  will  be  no  new  suggestion  to  a  reflecting  man 
like  yourself,  that  towns,  as  well  as  men,  have  their 
inner  and  their  outer  life.  There  is  a  striking  differ 
ence  in  one  respect,  between  the  two  subjects ;  the 
age  of  man  is  set  at  threescore  years  and  ten,  while 
towns  seldom  die.  The  pendulum  of  human  life 
vibrates  by  seconds,  that  of  towns  by  centuries.  The 
history  of  cities,  the  focal  points  of  society,  may  be 
duly  chronicled  even  to  their  minutest  incidents ; 
but  cities  do  not  constitute  nations ;  the  mass  of  al 
most  every  country  is  in  the  smaller  towns  and  vil 
lages.  The  outer  life  of  these  is  vaguely  jotted  down 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  57 

in  the  census,  and  reported  in  the  Gazetteers;  but 
their  inner  life,  which  comprises  the  condition  and 
progress  of  the  community  at  large,  is  seldom  writ 
ten.  We  may  see  glimpses  of  it  in  occasional  ser 
mons,  in  special  biographies,  in  genealogical  memo 
randa.  We-  may  take  periods  of  fifty  years,  and 
deduce  certain  general  inferences  from  statistical  ta 
bles  of  births  and  deaths ;  but  still,  the  living  men 
and  manners  as  they  rise  in  a  country  town,  are  sel 
dom  portrayed.  I  am  therefore  tempted  to  give  you 
a  rapid  sketch  of  Ridgefield  and  of  the  people — how 
they  lived,  thought,  and  felt,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century.  It  will  serve  as  an  example  of 
rustic  life  throughout  New  England,  fifty  years  ago, 
and  it  will  moreover  enable  me,  by  contrasting  this 
state  of  things  with  what  I  found  to  exist  many  years 
after,  to  show  the  steady,  though  silent,  and  perhaps 
unnoted  progress  of  society  among  us. 

From  what  I  have  already  said,  you  will  easily 
imagine  the  prominent  physical  characteristics  and 
aspect  of  my  native  town — a  general  mass  of  hills, 
rising  up  in  a  crescent  of  low  mountains,  and  com 
manding  a  wide  view  on  every  side.  The  soil  was 
naturally  hard,  and  thickly  sown  with  stones  of  ev 
ery  size,  from  the  immovable  rock  to  the  pebble. 
The  fields,  at  this  time,  were  divided  by  rude  stone 
walls,  and  the  surface  of  most  was  dotted  with 
gathered  heaps  of  stones  and  rocks,  thus  clearing 
spaces  for  cultivation,  yet  leaving  a  large  portion  of 

8* 


58  LKTTEKS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

the  land  still  encumbered  with  its  original  curse. 
The  climate  was  severe,  on  account  of  the  elevation 
of  the  site,  yet  this  was  perhaps  fully  compensated 
by  a  corresponding  salubrity. 

I  may  add,  in  passing,  that  the  climate  of  New 
England  generally,  has  been  mitigated  within  the  last 
fifty  years  by  the  changes  which  civilization  has 
wrought  on  the  surface  of  the  country — the  felling  of 
forests,  the  draining  of  marshes,  the  cultivation  of 
the  soil,  and  other  similar  causes — to  an  extent  not 
generally  appreciated.  A  person  who  has  not  made 
observations  for  a  long  period  of  time,  is  hardly 
aware  of  these  mutations — effected  by  a  growing  and 
industrious  agricultural  community,  even  in  the  stern 
er  features  of  nature.  This  may,  however,  be  easily 
appreciated,  if  one  will  compare  a  district  of  country 
covered  with  its  original  forests,  and  converted  into 
one  vast  sponge  by  its  thick  coating  of  weeds,  shrubs, 
mosses,  and  decayed  wood — the  accumulations  of  cen- 
turies — thus  making  the  hills  and  valleys  a  universal 
swamp,  hoarding  the  rains  of  summer,  and  treasuring 
the  snows  of  winter — with  the  same  district,  cleared 
of  its  trees,  its  soil  turned  up  by  the  plow  to  the 
sun,  and  its  waste  waters  carried  off  by  roads  and 
drains.  Such  a  process  over  a  whole  country,  is  evi 
dently  sufficient  to  affect  its  temperature,  and  ma 
terially  to  modify  its  climate.  I  know  many  tracts 
of  land,  which,  fifty  years  ago,  were  reeking  with 
moisture,  their  surface  defying  cultivation  bv  llio 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  59 

plow,  and  their  roads  impassable  a  great  part  of 
the  year  by  means  of  the  accumulation  of  water  in 
the  soil — now  covered  with  houses,  gardens,  and  corn 
fields,  and  all  the  result  of  the  slow  but  transform 
ing  processes  bestowed  by  man  upon  every  country 
which  he  subjects  to  cultivation.  Nature  is  like  man 
himself — rude  in  his  aspect  and  severe  in  his  temper, 
until  softened  and  subdued  by  civilization.  Our  New 
England,  two  centuries  ago,  was,  like  its  inhabitants, 
bleak  and  wild  to  the  view,  harsh  and  merciless  in 
its  climate :  the  change  of  these  is  analogous  to  the 
change  which  has  been  effected  by  substituting  towns 
and  villages  for  wigwams,  and  Christian  man  for  the 
sa\  age. 

Yet  despite  the  somewhat  forbidding  nature  of  the 
soil  and  climate  of  Eidgefield,  it  may  be  regarded  as 
presenting  a  favorable  example  of  New  England 
country  life  and  society,  at  the  beginning  of  the  pres 
ent  century.  The  town  was  originally  settled  by  a 
sturdy  race  of  men,  mostly  the  immediate  descendants 
of  English  emigrants,  some  from  Norwalk  and  some 
from  Milford.  Their  migration  over  an  intervening 
space  of  savage  hills,  rocks,  and  ravines,  into  a  ter 
ritory  so  forbidding,  and  their  speedy  conversion  of 
this  into  a  thriving  and  smiling  village,  are  witnesses 
to  their  courage  and  energy.  The  names  which  they 
bore,  and  which  have  been  disseminated  over  the 
Union  —  Benedicts,  Olmsteads,  Northups,  Keelers, 
Hoyts,  Nashes,  Dauceys,  Meads,  Hawleys — are  no 


(JO  LK'l'lKKS IJIOGUAPHICAL, 

less  significant  of  the  vigor  and  manliness  of  the 
stock  to  which  they  belonged. 

At  the  time'  referred  to,  the  date  of  my  earliest 
recollection,  the  society  of  Eidgefield  was  exclusively 
English,  and  the  manners  and  customs  such  as  might 
have  been  expected,  under  the  modifying  influence 
of  existing  circumstances.  I  remember  but  one  Irish 
man,  one  negro,  and  one  Indian  in  the  town.  The 
first  had  begged  and  blarneyed  his  way  from  Long 
Island,  where  he  had  been  wrecked  ;  the  second  was 
a-  liberated  slave;  and  the  last  was  the  vestige  of  a 
tribe,  which  dwelt  of  yore  in  a  swampy  tract,  the 
name  of  which  I  have  forgotten.  We  had  a  pro 
fessed  beggar,  called  Jagger,  who  had  served  in  the 
armies  of  more  than  one  of  the  Georges,  and  insisted 
upon  crying  "  God  save  the  king !"  even  on  the  4th 
of  July,  and  when  openly  threatened  by  the  boya 
with  a  gratuitous  ride  on  a  rail.  We  had  one  set 
tled  pauper,  Mrs.  Yabacomb,  who,  for  the  first  dozen 
years  of  my  life,  was  my  standard  type  for  the  witch 
of  Endor. 

Nearly  all  the  inhabitants  of  Eidgefield  were  farm 
ers,  with  the  few  mechanics  that  were  necessary  to 
carry  on  society  in  a  somewhat  primeval  state. 
Even  the  persons  not  professionally  devoted  to  agri 
culture,  had  each  his  farm,  or  at  least  his  garden  and 
home  lot,  with  his  pigs,  poultry,  and  cattle.  The  pop 
ulation  might  ha'v,  been  1200,  comprising  two  hun 
dred  families.  All  could  read  and  write,  but  in  point 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  61 

of  fact,  beyond  the  Almanac  and  Watts'  Psalms  and 
Hymns,  their  literary  acquirements  had  little  scope.. 
There  were,  I  think,  four  newspapers,  all  weekly, 
published  in  the  State :  one  at  Hartford,  one  at  New 
London,  one  at  New  Haven,  and  one  at  Litchfield. 
There  were,  however,  not  more  than  three  subscribers 
to  all  these  in  our  village.  We  had,  however,  a  pub 
lic  library  of  some  two  hundred  volumes,  and  what 
was  of  equal  consequence — the  town  was  on  the  road 
which  was  then  the  great  thoroughfare,  connecting 
Boston  with  New  York,  and  hence  it  had  means  of 
intelligence  from  travelers  constantly  passing  through 
the  place,  which  kept  it  up  with  the  march  of  events. 
If  Kidgefield  was  thus  rather  above  the  average  of 
Connecticut  villages  in  its  range  of  civilization,  I  sup 
pose  the  circumstances  and  modes  of  life  in  my  fa 
ther's  family,  were  somewhat  above  those  of  most 
people  around  us.  We  had  a  farm  of  forty  acres, 
with  four  cows,  two  horses,  and  some  two  dozen 
sheep,  to  which  may  be  added  a  stock  of  poultry,  in 
cluding  a  flock  of  geese.  My  father  carried  on  the 
farm,  besides  preaching  two  sermons  a  week,  and  at 
tending  to  other  parochial  duties — visiting  the  sick, 
attending  funerals,  solemnizing  marriages,  &c.  He 
personally  laid  out  the  beds  and  planted  the  garden  , 
he  pruned  the  fruit-trees,  and  worked  with  the  men 
in  the  meadow  in  the  press  of  haying-time.  He 
generally  cut  the  corn-stalks  himself,  and  always 
shelled  the  ears ;  the  latter  being  done  by  drawing 


62  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

them  across  the  handle  of  the  frying-pan,  fastened 
over  a  wash-tub.  I  was  sometimes  permitted,  as  an 
indulgence,  to  spell  my  father  in  this,  which  was 
a  favorite  employment.  With  these  and  a  few  other 
exceptions,  our  agricultural  operations  were  carried 
on  by  hired  help. 

It  may  seem  that  I  should  have  passed  over  these 
somewhat  commonplace  passages  in  my  father's  life, 
but  my  judgment  teaches  me  otherwise.  There  is 
good  example  and  good  argument  in  behalf  of  these 
labors  of  the  garden  and  the  field,  even  in  a  profes 
sional  man.  Not  to  cite  Achilles  and  Abraham,  who 
slaughtered  their  own  mutton,  and  Cinciunatus,  who 
held  his  own  plow,  it  was  the  custom  in  New  Eng 
land,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  for  country  lawyers, 
physicians,  clergymen — even  Doctors  of  Divinity,  to 
partake  of  these  homespun  labors.  In  the  library 
of  the  Atheneum  at  Hartford,  is  a  collection  of  Al 
manacs,  formerly  belonging  to  John  Cotton  Smith — 
one  of  the  most  elegant  and  accomplished  men  of  his 
time — a  distinguished  member  of  Congress,  Judge  of 
the  Superior  Court,  and  several  years  Governor  of  the 
State.  In  looking  it  over,  I  observed  such  notes  as 
the  following,  made  with  his  own  hand:  "cut  my 
barley,"  "began  rye  harvest,"  "planted  field  of  po 
tatoes,"  &c.;  thus  showing  his  personal  attention  to, 
if  not  his  participation  in,  the  affairs  of  the  farm.* 

*  See  ;i  further  notice  of  Gov.  Smith,  page  89.  vol  ii 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  63 

Nearly  all  the  judges  of  the  Superior  Court  occasion 
ally  worked  in  the  field,  in  these  hearty  old  federal 
times. 

Whether  these  facts  may  be  connected  with  others, 
which  I  am  about  to  state,  is  a  question  I  leave  for 
doctors  to  determine.  Certain  it  is  that  at  this  period 
professional  men  had  good  health  and  good  diges 
tion  :  no  clergyman  was  known  to  have  bronchitis. 
I  seldom  heard  of  dyspepsia,  bodily  or  mental,  during 
the  existence  of  the  Charter  of  Charles  II.  There  is 
a  pretty  common  notion  in  the  United  States,  that 
Jefferson  infused  a  general  demagogism  into  this 
country,  which  percolated  through  the  blood  and 
bone  of  society,  and  set  everybody  in  some  way 
or  other,  to  flattering  the  masses.  It  is  certain  that 
about  this  time,  not  only  the  politician,  but  the 
preacher,  the  lawyer,  the  editor,  the  author,  all  took 
to  talking,  speech- making,  lecturing  in  a  new  way,  in 
a  new  sense — that  is,  so  as  to  seduce  the  multitude. 
Thus  was  ushered  in  the  Age  of  Talk,  which  soon 
grew  into  a  rage.  The  mania  kept  pace  with  democ 
racy,  and  democracy  with  the  mania ;  and  at  last, 
at  the  end  of  this  national  flatulence,  the  world  grew 
light-headed,  and  forth  came  a  spawn  of  isms,  which 
no  man  can  number.  Under  the  influence  of  this 
advent  of  new  notions,  some  took  to  cold  water  and 
some  to  mint-juleps ;  some  to  raw  vegetables  and  some 
to  hot  slings.  All  agonized  in  one  way  or  another 
Every  thing  grew  intense :  politics  swam  with  pota- 


K4-  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

tions ;  religion  got  mixed  up  with  transcendentalism ; 
until  at  last,  professors  took  to  table-turning  and 
judges  to  spirit-rappings.  Now  I  do  not  say  that  all 
this  is  a  sequence  of  logical  deductions :  that  spirit 
ualism  is  to  be  fathered  upon  Thomas  Jefferson  :  what 
I  affirm  is,  that  demagogism  and  democracy,  dyspep 
sia  and  transcendentalism,  vegetarianism  and  spirit 
ualism,  have  all  come  np,  one  after  another,  since  old 
federalism  went  down  !  If  it  is  any  object  to  cure 
mankind  of  these  vapors,  I  recommend  that  we  all  go 
back  to  the  habits  of  other  days,  in  which  ministers, 
judges  and  governors  wrought  occasionally  in  the  field. 
But  I  return  to  Eidgefield.  The  household,  as 
well  as  political,  economy  of  these  days  lay  in  this, 
that  every  family  lived  as  much  as  possible  within 
itself.  Money  was  scarce,  wages  being  about  fifty 
cents  a  day,  though  these  were  generally  paid  in  meat, 
vegetables,  and  other  articles  of  use  —  seldom  in 
money.  There  was  not  a  factory  of  any  kind  in  the 
place.*  There  was  a  butcher,  but  he  only  went 
from  house  to  house  to  slaughter  the  cattle  and  swine 
of  his  neighbors.  There  was  a  tanner,  but  he  only 
dressed  other  people's  skins:  there  was  a  clothier, 
but  he  generally  fulled  and  dressed  other  people's 
cloth.  All  this  is  typical  of  the  mechanical  opera- 

*  I  recollect,  as  tin  after-thought,  one  exception.  There  was  shatter 
who  supplied  the  town  ;  but  he  generally  mode  hats  to  order,  and  usu 
ally  in  exchange  for  the  skins  of  foxes,  rabbits,  muskrats,  and  other 
chance  peltry.  I  frequently  purchased  my  powder  and  shot  from  the 
proceeds  of  skins  which  I  sold  him. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  65 

tions  of  the  place.  Even  dyeing  blue  a  portion  of 
the  wool,  so  as  to  make  linsey-woolsey  for  short 
gowns,  aprons,  and  blue-mixed  stockings — vital  ne 
cessities  in  those  days — was  a  domestic  operation. 
During  the  autumn,  a  dye-tub  in  the  chimney  corner 
— thus  placed  so  as  to  be  cherished  by  the  genial  heat 
— was  as  familiar  in  all  thrifty  houses,  as  the  Bible 
or  the  back-log.  It  was  covered  with  a  board,  and 
formed  a  cosy  seat  in  the  wide-mouthed  fireplace, 
especially  of  a  chill  evening.  When  the  night  had 
waned,  and  the  family  had  retired,  it  frequently  be 
came  the  anxious  seat  of  the  lover,  who  was  per 
mitted  to  carry  on  his  courtship,  the  object  of  his 
addresses  sitting  demurely  in  the  opposite  corner. 
Some  of  the  first  families  in  Connecticut,  I  suspect, 
could  their  full  annals  be  written,  would  find  their 
foundations  to  have  been  laid  in  these  chimney-corner 
courtships. 

Being  thus  exposed,  this  institution  of  the  dye-tub 
was  the  frequent  subject  of  distressing  and  exciting 
accidents.  Among  the  early,  indelible  incidents  in 
my  memory,  happening  to  all  vigorous  characters, 
turning  this  over  is  one  of  the  most  prominent.  Noth 
ing  so  roused  the  indignation  of  thrifty  housewives, 
[for  besides  the  ignominious  avalanche  of  blue  upon 
the  floor,  there  was  an  infernal  appeal  made  to  an 
other  sense  than  that  of  sight.  Every  youth  of  parts 
was  laden  with  experience  in  this  way.  I  have  a 
vague  impression  that  Philip  N  . .  . .,  while  courting 


66  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

H . . . .  M  . . .,  was  suspended  for  six  weeks,  for  one 
of  these  mischances.  If  it  was  not  he,  it  was  some 
other  spark  of  that  generation. 

To  this  general  system  of  domestic  economy  our 
family  was  not  an  exception.  Every  autumn,  it  was 
a  matter  of  course  that  we  had  a  fat  ox  or  a  fat  cow, 
ready  for  slaughter.  One  full  barrel  was  salted 
down ;  the  hams  were  cut  out,  slightly  salted,  and 
hung  up  in  the  chimney  for  a  few  days,  and  thus  be 
came  "dried"  or  "hung  beef,"  then  as  essential  as 
the  staff  of  life.  Pork  was  managed  in  a  similar  way, 
though  even  on  a  larger  scale,  for  two  barrels  were 
indispensable.  A  few  pieces,  as  the  spare-ribs,  &c., 
were  distributed  to  the  neighbors,  who  paid  in  kind 
when  they  killed  their  swine. 

Mutton  and  poultry  came  in  their  turn,  all  from 
our  own  stock,  save  that  on  Thanksgiving-day  some 
of  the  magnates  gave  the  parson  a  turkey.  This, 
let  me  observe,  in  those  good  old  times,  was  a  bird 
of  mark ;  no  timid,  crouching  biped,  with  downcast 
head  and  pallid  countenance,  but  stalking  like  a  lord, 
and  having  wattles  red  as  a  "banner  bathed  in 
slaughter."  His  beard,  or  in  modern  parlance,  his 
goat,  without  the  aid  of  gum  and  black-ball,  was  so 
long,  shining,  and  wiry,  that  it  might  have  provoked 
the  envy  of  his  modern  human  rival  in  foppery. 
There  was,  in  fact,  something  of  the  genius  of  the 
native  bird  still  in  him,  for  though  the  race  was  near 
ly  extinct,  a  few  wild  flocks  lingered  in  the  remote 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  67 

woods.  Occasionally  in  the  depth  of  winter,  and  along 
to  the  early  spring,  these  stole  to  the  barnyard,  and 
held  communion  with  their  civilized  compatriots.  Se 
vere  battles  ensued  among  the  leaders  for  the  favors 
of  the  fair,  and  as  the  wild  cocks  always  conquered, 
the  vigor  of  the  race  was  kept  up. 

Our  bread  was  of  rye,  tinged  with  Indian  meal. 
Wheat  bread  was  reserved  for  the  sacrament  and 
company ;  a  proof  not  of  its  superiority,  but  of  its 
scarcity  and  consequent  estimation.  All  the  vegeta 
bles  came  from  our  garden  and  farm.  The  fuel  was 
supplied  by  our  own  woods — sweet-scented  hickory, 
snapping  chestnut,  odoriferous  oak,  and  reeking,  fiz 
zling  ash — the  hot  juice  of  the  latter,  by  the  way, 
being  a  sovereign  antidote  for  the  ear-ache.  These 
were  laid  in  huge  piles,  all  alive  with  sap,  on  the  tall, 
gaunt  andirons.  You  might  have  thought  you  heard 
John  Rogers  and  his  family  at  the  stake,  by  their  plain- 
tive  simmerings.  The  building  of  a  fire  was  a  real 
architectural  achievement,  favored  by  the  wide  yawn 
ing  fireplace,  and  was  always  begun  by  daybreak. 
There  was  first  a  back-log,  from  fifteen  to  four  and 
twenty  inches  in  diameter  and  five  feet  long,  imbed 
ded  in  the  ashes ;  then  came  a  top  log ;  then  a  fore 
stick;  then  a  middle  stick,  and  then  a  heap  of  kin 
dlings,  reaching  from  the  bowels  down  to  the  bottom. 
A-top  of  all  was  a  pyramid  of  smaller  fragments,  art 
fully  adjusted,  with  spaces  for  the  blaze. 

Friction  matches  had  not  then  been  sent  from  the 


68  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

regions  of  brimstone,  to  enable  every  boy  or  beggar  to 
carry  a  conflagration  in  his  pocket.  If  there  were  no 
coals  left  from  the  last  night's  fire,  and  none  to  be 
borrowed  from  the  neighbors,  resort  was  had  to  flint, 
steel,  and  tinder-box.  Often,  when  the  flint  was  dull, 
and  the  steel  soft,  and  the  tinder  damp,  the  striking  of 
fire  was  a  task  requiring  both  energy  and  patience. 
If  the  edifice  on  the  andirons  was  skilfully  construct 
ed,  the  spark  being  applied,  there  was  soon  a  furious 
stinging  smoke,  which  Silliman  told  the  world  some 
years  after,  consisted  mainly  of  pyroligneous  acid. 
Nevertheless,  in  utter  ignorance  of  this  philosophical 
fact,  the  forked  flame  soon  began  to  lick  the  sweat 
ing  sticks  above,  and  by  the  time  the  family  had 
arisen,  and  assembled  in  the  "  keeping  room,"  there 
was  a  roaring  blaze,  which  defied  even  the  bitter 
blasts  of  winter — and  which,  by  the  way,  found  abun 
dant  admittance  through  the  crannies  of  the  doors 
and  windows.  To  feed  the  family  fire  in  those  days, 
during  the  severe  season,  was  fully  one  man's  work. 

But  to  go  on  with  our  household  history.  Sugar 
was  partially  supplied  by  our  maple-trees.  These 
were  tapped  in  March,  the  sap  being  collected,  and 
boiled  down  in  the  woods.  This  was  wholly  a  do 
mestic  operation,  and  one  in  which  all  the  children 
rejoiced,  each  taking  his  privilege  of  an  occasional 
sip  or  dip,  from  the  period  of  the  limpid  sap,  to  the 
granulated  condiment.  Nevertheless,  the  chief  sup. 
ply  of  sugar  was  from  the  West  Indies. 


MAKIXG  MAPLE  SUGAR.     Vol.  1,  p.  68. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOT1CAL,    ETC.  G9 

Bum  was  largely  consumed,  but  our  distilleries  had 
scarcely  begun.  A  half-pint  of  it  was  given  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  every  day-laborer,  more  particu 
larly  in  the  summer  season.  In  all  families,  rich  or 
poor,  it  was  offered  to  male  visitors  as  an  essential 
point  of  hospitality,  or  even  good  manners.  Wo 
men — I  beg  pardon — ladies,  took  their  schnapps,  then 
named  "Hopkins'  Elixir,"  which  was  the  most  deli 
cious  and  seductive  means  of  getting  tipsy  that  has 
been  invented.  Crying  babies  were  silenced  with  hot 
toddy,  then  esteemed  an  infallible  remedy  for  wind 
on  the  stomach.  Every  man  imbibed  his  morning 
dram,  and  this  was  esteemed  temperance.  There  is 
a  story  of  a  preacher  about  those  days,  who  thus  lec 
tured  his  parish :  "I  say  nothing,  my  beloved  breth 
ren,  against  taking  a  little  bitters  before  breakfast, 
and  after  breakfast,  especially  if  you  are  used  to  it. 
What  I  contend  against  is  this  dramming,  dramming, 
dramming,  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  There  are  some 
men  who  take  a  glass  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  fore 
noon,  and  at  four  in  the  afternoon.  I  do  not  pur 
pose  to  contend  against  old  established  customs,  my 
brethren,  rendered  respectable  by  time  and  author 
ity  ;  but  this  dramming,  dramming,  is  a  crying  sin  in 
the  land." 

However  absurd  this  may  seem  now,  it  was  not 
then  very  wide  of  the  public  sentiment.  Huxham's 
tincture  was  largely  prescribed  by  the  physicians. 
Tansey  bitters  were  esteemed  a  sort  of  panacea, 


70  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

moral  as  well  as  physical,  for  even  the  morning 
prayer  went  up  heavily  without  it.  The  place  of 
Stoughton — for  this  mixture  was  not  then  invented 
— was  supplied  by  a  tuft  of  tansey  which  Providence 
seemed  to  place  somewhere  in  every  man's  garden 
or  home  lot. 

As  to  brandy,  I  scarcely  heard  of  it,  so  far  as  I 
can  recollect,  till  I  was  sixteen  years  old,  and  as  ap 
prentice  in  a  country  store,  was  called  upon  to  sell 
it.  Cider  was  the  universal  table  beverage.  Cider 
brandy  and  whisky  were  soon  after  evoked  from 
the  infernal  caldron  of  evil  spirits.  I  remember,  in 
my  boyhood,  to  have  seen  a  strange,  zigzag  tin  tube, 
denominated  a  "  still,"  belonging  to  one  of  our  neigh 
bors,  converting,  drop  by  drop,  certain  innocent 
liquids  into  the  infernal  fire-water.  But,  in  the 
days  I  speak  of,  French  brandy  was  rather  confined 
to  the  houses  of  the  rich,  and  to  the  drug  shop. 

Wine  in  our  country  towns  was  then  almost  ex 
clusively  used  for  the  sacrament.  I  remember  to 
have  heard  a  story  of  these  days,  which  is  suggestive. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  G of  J. ...  had  a  brother  who 

had  lived  some  years  in  France,  and  was  familiar  with 
the  wines  of  that  country.  On  a  certain  occasion,  he 
dined  with  his  clerical  brother,  who  after  dinner  gave 
him  a  glass  of  this  beverage.  The  visitor  having 
tasted  it,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  made  wry 
faces. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  liquor,  brother  ?"  said  he. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOtlCAL,    ETC.  71 

"  Why  it  is  some  that  was  left  over  from  the  sacra 
ment,  and  my  deacons  sent  it  to  me." 

"  I  don't  wonder,  brother,"  was  the  reply,  "  that 
your  church  is  so  small,  now  that  I  know  what  wine 
you  give  them." 

There  was,  of  course,  no  baker  in  Ridgefield ;  each 
family  not  only  made  its  own  bread,  cakes,  and  pies, 
but  their  own  soap,  candles,  butter,  cheese,  and  the 
like.  The  fabrication  of  cloth,  linen,  and  woolen 
was  no  less  a  domestic  operation.  Cotton — that  is, 
raw  cotton — was  then  wholly  unknown  among  us  at 
the  North,  except  as  a  mere  curiosity,  produced  some 
where  in  the  tropics ;  but  whether  it  grew  on  a  plant, 
or  an  animal,  was  not  clearly  settled  in  the  public 
mind. 

We  raised  our  own  flax,  rotted  it,  hackled  it, 
dressed  it,  and  spun  it.  The  little  wheel,  turned  by 
the  foot,  had  its  place,  and  was  as  familiar  as  if  it 
had  been  a  member  of  the  family.  How  often  have 
I  seen  my  mother,  and  my  grandmother  too,  sit  down 
to  it — though  this,  as  I  remember,  was  for  the  purpose 
of  spinning  some  finer  kind  of  thread — the  burden  of 
the  spinning  being  done  by  a  neighbor  of  ours,  Sally 
St.  John.  By  the  way,  she  was  a  good-hearted,  cheer 
ful  old  maid,  who  petted  me  beyond  my  deserts.  I 
grieve  to  say,  that  I  repaid  her  partiality  by  many 
mischievous  pranks,  for  which  I  should  have  been 
roundly  punished,  had  not  the  good  creature,  like 
charity,  covered  a  multitude  of  sins.  I  did  indeed 


72  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

get  filliped  for  catching  her  foot  one  day  in  a  steel- 
trap,  but  I  declare  that  I  was  innocent  of  malice  pre 
pense,  inasmuch  as  I  had  set  the  trap  for  a  rat  in 
stead  of  the  said  Sally.  Nevertheless,  the  verdict 
was  against  me,  not  wholly  because  of  my  misdemea 
nor  in  this  particular  instance,  but  partly  upon  the 
general  theory  that  if  I  did  not  deserve  punishment 
for  that,  I  had  deserved  it,  and  should  deserve  it  for 
something  else,  and  so  it  was  safe  to  administer  it. 

.The  wool  was  also  spun  in  the  family,  partly  by 
my  sisters,  and  partly  by  Molly  Gregory,  daughter 
of  our  neighbor,  the  town  carpenter.  I  remember 
her  well  as  she  sang  and  spun  aloft  in  the  attic.  In 
those  days,  church  singing  was  one  of  the  fine  arts — 
the  only  one,  indeed,  which  flourished  in  Ridgefield, 
except  the  music  of  the  drum  and  fife.  The  choir 
was  divided  into  four  parts,  ranged  on  three  sides  ol 
the  meeting-house  gallery.  The  tenor,  led  by  Dea 
con  Hawley,  was  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  the  base  to 
the  left,  and  the  treble  and  counter  to  the  right* — 
the  whole  being  set  in  motion  by  a  pitch-pipe,  made 
by  the  deacon  himself,  who  was  a  cabinet-maker. 
Molly  took  upon  herself  the  entire  counter,  for  she 
had  excellent  lungs.  The  fuging  tunes,  which 
had  then  run  a  little  mad,  were  her  delight,  and  of 
all  these,  Montgomery  was  the  general  favorite. 
In  her  solitary  operations  aloft,  I  have  often  heard 

*  This  separation  of  a  choir  is  seldom  pit  rticed  now  in  our  churches, 
Out  was  in  general  use  at  this  period. 


HISTORICAL,    ASECDOTICAL,    ETC.  73 

her  send  forth  from  the  attic  windows,  the  droning 
hum  of  her  wheel,  with  fitful  snatches  of  a  hymn,  in 
which  the  base  began,  the  tenor  followed,  then  the 
treble,  and  finally,  the  counter — winding  up  with  ir 
resistible  pathos.  Molly  singing  to  herself,  and  all  un 
conscious  of  eavesdroppers,  carried  on  all  the  parts, 
thus : 

Base.       "  Long  for  a  cooling — 
Tenor.     "  Long  for  a  cooling — 
Treble.     "  Long  for  a  cooling — 
Counter.  "  Long  for  a  cooling  stream  at  hand, 
And  they  must  drink  or  die  1" 

The  knitting  of  stockings  was  performed  by  the 
female  part  of  the  family  in  the  evening,  and  espe 
cially  at  tea  parties.  According  to  the  theory  of  so 
ciety  in  that  golden  age,  this  was  a  moral  as  well  as 
an  economical  employment,  inasmuch  as  Satan  was 
held  to  find 

"  Some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do." 

Satan,  however,  dodged  the  question,  for  if  the 
hands  were  occupied,  the  tongue  was  loose ;  and  it 
was  said  that  in  some  families,  he  kept  them  well  oc 
cupied  with  idle  gossip.  At  all  events,  pianos,  chess 
boards,  graces,  battledoors,  and  shuttlecocks,  with 
other  safety-valves  of  the  kind,  were  only  known  by 
the  hearing  of  the  ear,  as  belonging  to  some  such 
Vanity  Fair  as  New  York  or  Boston. 

VOL.  I.— * 


74  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

The  weaving  of  cloth — linen,  as  well  as  woolen — 
was  performed  by  an  itinerant  workman,  who  came 
to  the  house,  put  up  his  loom,  and  threw  his  shuttle, 
till  the  season's  work  was  done.  The  linen  was 
bleached,  and  made  up  by  the  family  ;  the  woolen 
cloth  was  sent  to  the  fuller  to  be  dyed  and  dressed. 
Twice  a  year,  that  is,  in  the  spring  and  autumn,  the 
tailor  came  to  the  house  and  fabricated  the  semi 
annual  stock  of  clothes  for  the  male  members — this 
being  called  "  whipping  the  cat." 

Mantuamakers  and  milliners  came  in  their  turn,  to 
fit  out  the  female  members  of  the  family.  There 
was  a  similar  process  as  to  boots  and  shoes.  We 
sent  the  hides  of  the  cattle — cows  and  calves  we  had 
killed — to  the  tanner,  and  these  came  back  in  assorted 
leather.  Occasionally  a  little  morocco,  then  wholly 
a  foreign  manufacture,  was  bought  at  the  store,  and 
made  up  for  the  ladies'  best  shoes.  Amby  Benedict, 
the  circulating  shoemaker,  upon  due  notice,  came 
with  his  bench,  lapstone,  and  awls,  and  converted 
some  little  room  into  a  shop,  till  the  household  was 
duly  shod.  He  was  a  merry  fellow,  and  threw  in 
lots  of  singing  gratis.  He  played  all  the  popular 
airs  upon  his  lapstone — as  hurdygurdies  and  hand- 
organs  do  now. 

Carpets  were  then  only  known  in  a  few  families, 
and  were  confined  to  the  keeping-room  and  parlor. 
They  were  all  home-made :  the  warp  consisting  of 
woolen  yarn,  and  the  woof  of  lists  and  old  woolen 


HI8TOKICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  15 

cloth,  cut  into  strips,  and  sewed  together  at  the 
ends.  Coverlids  generally  consisted  of  quilts,  made 
of  pieces  of  waste  calico,  elaborately  sewed  together 
in  octagons,  and  quilted  in  rectangles,  giving  the 
whole  a  gay  and  rich  appearance.  This  process 
of  quilting  generally  brought  together  the  women  of 
the  neighborhood,  married  and  single,  and  a  great 
time  they  had  of  it — what  with  tea,  talk,  and  stitch 
ing.  In  the  evening,  the  beaux  were  admitted,  so 
that  a  quilting  was  a  real  festival,  not  unfrequently 
getting  young  people  into  entanglements  which  mat 
rimony  alone  could  unravel. 

I  am  here  reminded  of  a  sort  of  communism  or  so 
cialism  which  prevailed  in  our  rural  districts  long 
before  Owen  or  Fourier  was  born.  If  some  old  Arca 
dian  of  the  golden  age  had  written  his  life,  as  I  now 
write  mine,  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  would  have  ap 
peared  that  this  system  existed  then  and  there,  and 
that  these  pretended  inventors  were  mere  imitators.  At 
all  events,  at  Bidgefield  we  used  to  have  "  stone  bees," 
when  all  the  men  of  a  village  or  hamlet  came  togeth 
er  with  their  draft  cattle,  and  united  to  clear  some 
patch  of  earth  which  had  been  stigmatized  by  nature 
with  an  undue  visitation  of  stones  and  rocks.  All 
this  labor  was  gratuitously  rendered,  save  only  that 
the  proprietor  of  the  land  furnished  the  grog.  Such 
a  meeting  was  always  of  course  a  very  social  and 
sociable  affair.  When  the  work  was  done,  gymnas 
tic  exercises — such  as  hopping,  wrestling,  and  foot- 


76  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

racing — took  place  among  the  athletic  young  men 
My  father  generally  attended  these  celebrations  as  a 
looker-on.  It  was  indeed  the  custom  for  the  clergy 
of  the  olden  time,  to  mingle  with  the  people,  even 
in  their  labors  and  their  pastimes.  For  some  reason 
or  other,  it  seemed  that  things  went  better  when  the 
parson  gave  them  his  countenance.  I  followed  my 
father's  example,  and  attended  these  cheerful  and 
beneficial  gatherings.  Most  of  the  boys  of  the  town 
did  the  same.  I  may  add  that,  if  I  may  trust  the  tra 
ditions  of  Bidgefield,  the  cellar  of  our  new  house  was 
dug  by  a  bee  in  a  single  day,  and  that  was  Christ 
mas. 

House-raising  and  barn-raising,  the  framework  be 
ing  always  of  wood,  were  done  in  the  same  way  by  a 
neighborly  gathering  of  the  people.  I  remember  an 
anecdote  of  a  church-raising,  which  I  may  as  well 
relate  here.  In  the  eastern  part  of  the  State,  I  think 
at  Lyme,  or  Pautipaug,  a  meeting-house  was  destroyed 
by  lightning.  After  a  year  or  two,  the  society  mus 
tered  its  energies,  and  raised  the  frame  of  another  on 
the  site  of  the  old  one.  It  stood  about  six  months, 
and  was  then  blown  over. 

In  due  time,  another  frame  was  prepared,  and  the 
neighborhood  gathered  together  to  raise  it.  It  was  now 
proposed  by  Deacon  Hart  that  they  should  commence 
the  performances  by  a  prayer  and  hymn,  it  having 
been  suggested  that  perhaps  the  want  of  these  pious 
preliminaries  on  former  occasions,  had  something  to 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  77 

do  with  the  calamitous  results  which  attended  them. 
"When  all  was  ready,  therefore,  a  prayer  was  made, 
and  the  chorister  of  the  place  deaconed*  the  first 
two  lines  of  the  hymn  thus : 

"  If  God  to  build  the  house  deny, 
The  builders  work  in  vain." 

This  being  sung,  the  chorister  completed  the  verse 
thus,  adapting  the  lines  to  the  occasion : 

"  Unless  the  Lord  doth  shingle  it, 
It  will  blow  down  agin !" 

1  must  not  fail  to  give  you  a  portrait  of  one  of  our 
village  homes — of  the  middle  class — at  this  era.     I 

take  as  an  example  that  of  our  neighbor,  J B . . . . 

who  had  been  a  tailor,  but  having  thriven  in  his 
affairs,  and  now  advanced  to  the  age  of  some  fifty 
years,  had  become  a  farmer — such  a  career,  by  the 
way,  being  common  at  the  time ;  for  the  prudent 
mechanic,  adding  to  his  house  and  his  lands,  as  his 
necessities  and  his  thrift  dictated,  usually  ended  as 
the  proprietor  of  an  ample  house,  fifty  to  a  hundred 
acres  of  land,  and  an  ample  barn,  stocked  with  half 


*  Deaconing  a  hymn  or  psalm,  was  adopted  on  occasions  when  there 
was  but  a  single  book,  or  perhaps  but  one  or  two  books,  at  hand — a 
circumstance  more  common  fifty  years  ago,  when  singing-books  were 
scarce,  than  nt  present,  when  books  of  all  kinds  render  food  for  the 
mind  as  cheap  and  abundant  as  that  for  the  body.  In  such  cases,  the 
leader  of  the  choir,  or  the  deacon,  or  some  other  person,  read  a  verse, 
or  perhaps  two  lines  of  a  hymn,  which  being  sung,  other  stanzas  were 
read,  and  then  sung  in  the  same  way. 


78  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

a  dozen  cows,  one  or  two  horses,  a  flock  of  sheep,  and 
a  general  assortment  of  poultry. 

The  home  of  this,  our  neighbor  B ,  was  situ 
ated  on  the  road  leading  to  Salem,  there  being  a  wide 
space  in  front  occupied  by  the  wood-pile,  which  in 
these  days  was  not  only  a  matter  of  great  importance, 
but  of  formidable  bulk.  The  size  of  the  wood-pile 
was  indeed  in  some  sort  an  index  to  the  rank  and 
condition  of  the  proprietor.  The  house  itself  was  a 
low  edifice,  forty  feet  long,  and  of  two  stories  in 
front;  the  rear  being  what  was  called  a  breakback, 
that  is,  sloping  down  to  a  height  of  ten  feet ;  this  low 
part  furnishing  a  shelter  for  garden  tools,  and  various 
household  instruments.  The  whole  was  constructed 
of  wood ;  the  outside  being  of  the  dun  complexion 
assumed  by  unpainted  wood,  exposed  to  the  weather 
for  twenty  or  thirty  years,  save  only  that  the  roof 
was  tinged  of  a  reddish-brown  by  a  fine  moss  that 
found  sustenance  in  the  chestnut  shingles. 

To  the  left  was  the  garden,  which  in  the  produc 
tive  season  was  a  wilderness  of  onions,  squashes,  cu 
cumbers,  beets,  parsnips,  and  currants,  with  the  never- 
failing  tansey  for  bitters,  horseradish  for  seasoning, 
and  fennel  for  keeping  old  women  awake  in  church 
time.  A  sprig  of  fennel  was  in  fact  the  theological 
smelling-bottle  of  the  tender  sex,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  of  the  men,  who,  from  long  sitting  in  the 
sanctuary — after  a  week  of  labor  in  the  field — found 
themselves  too  strongly  tempted  to  visit  the  forbidden 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  79 

land  of  Nod — would  sometimes  borrow  a  sprig  of 
fennel,  and  exorcise  the  fiend  that  threatened  their 
spiritual  welfare. 

The  interior  of  the  house  presented  a  parlor  with 
plain,  whitewashed  walls,  a  home-made  carpet  upon 
the  floor,  calico  curtains  at  the  window,  and  a  mirror 
three  feet  by  two  against  the  side,  with  a  mahogany 
frame :  to  these  must  be  added  eight  chairs  and  a 
cherry  table,  of  the  manufacture  of  Deacon  Hawley. 
The  keeping  or  sitting^  room  had  also  a  carpet,  a 
dozen  rush-bottom  chairs,  a  table,  &c.  The  kitchen 
was  large — fully  twenty  feet  square,  with  a  fireplace 
six  feet  wide  and  four  feet  deep.  On  one  side,  it 
looked  out  upon  the  garden,  the  squashes  and  cu 
cumbers  climbing  up  and  forming  festoons  over  the 
door ;  on  the  other  a  view  was  presented  of  the  or 
chard,  embracing  first  a  circle  of  peaches,  pears,  and 
plums,  and  beyond^a  wide-spread  clover  field,  embow 
ered  with  apple-trees.  Just  by,  was  the  well,  with  its 
tall  sweep,  the  old  oaken  bucket  dangling  from  the 
pole.  The  kitchen  was  in  fact  the  most  comfortable 
room  in  the  house ;  cool  in  summer,  and  perfumed 
with  the  breath  of  the  garden  and  the  orchard :  in 
winter,  with  its  roaring  blaze  of  hickory,  it  was  a 
cosy  resort,  defying  the  bitterest  blasts  of  the  season. 
Here  the  whole  family  assembled  at  meals,  save  only 
when  the  presence  of  company  made  it  proper  to 
serve  tea  in  the  parlor. 

The  chambers  were  all  without  carpets,  and  the 


80  LE'ITERS — BIOGKAPHICAL, 

furniture  was  generally  of  a  simple  character.  The 
beds,  however,  were  of  ample  size,  and  well  filled 
with  geese  feathers,  these  being  deemed  essential  for 
comfortable  people.  I  must  say,  by  the  way,  that 
every  decent  family  had  its  flock  of  geese,  of  course, 
which  was  picked  thrice  a  year,  despite  the  noisy  re 
monstrances  of  both  goose  and  gander.  The  sheets 
of  the  bed,  though  of  home-made  linen,  were  as  white 
as  the  driven  snow.  Indeed,  the  beds  of  this  era 
showed  that  sleep  was  a  luxury,  well  understood  and 
duly  cherished  by  all  classes.  The  cellar,  extending 
under  the  whole  house,  was  a  vast  receptacle,  and  by 
no  means  the  least  important  part  of  the  establish 
ment.  In  the  autumn,  it  was  supplied  with  three 
barrels  of  beef  and  as  many  of  pork,  twenty  barrels  of 
cider,  with  numerous  bins  of  potatoes,  turnips,  beets, 
carrots,  and  cabbages.  The  garret,  which  was  of 
huge  dimensions,  at  the  same  time  displayed  a  laby 
rinth  of  dried  pumpkins,  peaches,  and  apples — hung 
in  festoons  upon  the  rafters,  amid  bunches  of  summer 
savory,  boneset,  fennel,  and  other  herbs — the  floor 
being  occupied  by  heaps  of  wool,  flax,  tow,  and  the 
like. 

The  barn  corresponded  to  the  house.  It  was  a  low 
brown  structure,  having  abundance  of  sheds  built  on 
to  it,  without  the  least  regard  to  symmetry.  I  need 
not  say  it  was  well  stocked  with  hay,  oats,  rye,  and 
buckwheat.  Six  cows,  one  or  two  horses,  three  dozen 
sheep,  and  an  ample  supply  of  poultry,  including  two 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  81 

or  three  broods   of  turkeys,    constituted   its   living 
tenants. 

The  farm  I  need  not  describe  in  detail,  but  the 
orchard  must  not  be  overlooked.  This  consisted  of 
three  acres,  covered,  as  I  have  said,  with  apple-trees, 
yielding  abundantly — as  well  for  the  cider-mill  as  for 
the  table,  including  the  indispensable  winter  apple 
sauce — according  to  their  kinds.  In  the  spring,  an 
apple  orchard  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  objects 
in  the  world.  No  tree  or  shrub  presents  a  bloom 
at  once  so  gorgeous,  and  so  fragrant.  Just  at  this 
time  it  is  the  paradise  of  the  bees  and  the  birds — the 
former  filling  the  air  with  their  gentle  murmurs,  and 
the  latter  celebrating  their  nuptials  with  all  the  frolic 
and  fun  of  a  universal  jubilee.  How  often  have 
I  ventured  into  Uncle  Josey's  ample  orchard  at  this 
joyous  season,  andj^ood  entranced  among  the  robins, 
blackbirds,  woodpeckers,  bluebirds,  jays,  and  orioles, 
— all  seeming  to  me  like  playmates,  racing,  cha 
sing,  singing,  rollicking,  in  the  exuberance  of  their 
joy,  or  perchance  slyly  pursuing  their  courtships,  or 
even  more  slyly  building  their  nests,  and  rearing 
their  young. 

The  inmates  of  the  house  I  need  not  describe,  fur 
ther  than  to  say  that  Uncle  Josey  himself  was  a  little 
deaf,  and  of  moderate  capacity,  yet  he  lived  to  good 
account,  for  he  reared  a  large  family,  and  was  gath 
ered  to  his  fathers  at  a  good  old  age,  leaving  be 
hind  him  a  handsome  estate,  a  fair  name,  and  a  safe 


82  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

example.  His  wife,  who  spent  her  early  life  at  ser 
vice  in  a  kitchen,  was  a  handsome,  lively,  efficient 
woman,  mother  of  a  large  and  prosperous  family,  and 
a  universal  favorite  in  the  neighborhood.  She  is 
still  living  in  a  green  old  age,  with  several  genera 
tions  of  descendants,  who  call  down  blessings  on  her 
name. 

This  is  the  homely  picture  of  a  Ridgefield  farmer's 
home,  half  a  century  ago.  There  were  other  estab 
lishments  more  extensive  and  more  sumptuous  in  the 
town,  as  there  were  others  also  of  an  inferior  grade. 
Yet  this  was  a  fair  sample  of  the  houses,  barns,  and 
farms  of  the  middle  class — the  majority  of  the  peo 
ple.  Since  then  the  times  have  changed,  as  I  shall 
hereafter  show  :  the  general  standard  of  living  has  in 
all  things  improved;  but  still  the  same  elements  of 
thrift,  economy,  piety,  prudence,  and  progress  are 
visible  on  every  side.  Uncle  Josey's  house  is  still 
standing ;  its  exterior  shows  no  coat  of  paint,  but 
the  interior  displays  Kidderminster  carpets — made  at 
Enfield  or  Lowell — mahogany  bureaus,  gilt  looking- 
glasses,  and  a  small  well-filled  mahogany  bookcase. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  83 


LETTER   VII. 

Domestic  Habits  of  the  People  —  Meals  —  Servants  and  Masters  —  Dress  — 
Amusements  —  Festivals  —  Marriages  —  Funeral-s  —  Dancing  —  Winter 
Sports  —  Up  and  Dawn  —  My  Two  Grandmothers. 


R  C****** 

You  will  gather  from  my  preceding  letter,  some 
ideas  of  the  household  industry  and  occupations  of 
country  people  in  Connecticut,  at  .the  beginning  of 
the  present  century.  Their  manners,  in  other  re 
spects,  had  a  corresponding  stamp  of  homeliness  and 
simplicity. 

In  most  families,  the  first  exercise  of  the  morning 
was  reading  the  Bible,  followed  by  a  prayer,  at  which 
all  were  assembled,  including  the  servants  and  help 
ers  of  the  kitchen  and  the  farm.  Then  came  the 
breakfast,  which  was  a  substantial  meal,  always  in 
cluding  hot  viands,  with  vegetables,  apple-sauce,  pick 
les,  mustard,  horseradish,  and  various  other  condi 
ments.  Cider  was  the  common  drink  for  laboring 
people;  even  children  drank  it  at  will.  Tea  was 
common,  but  not  so  general  as  now.  Coffee  was  al 
most  unknown.  Dinner  was  a  still  more  hearty  and 
varied  repast  —  characterized  by  abundance  of  garden 
vegetables  ;  tea  was  a  light  supper. 

The  day  began  early  :  breakfast  was  had  at  six  in 
summer  and  seven  in  winter  ;  dinner  at  noon  —  the 


£4  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

work  people  in  the  fields  being  called  to  their  meals 
by  a  conch-shell,  usually  winded  by  some  kitchen 
Triton.  The  echoing  of  this  noon-tide  horn,  from 
farm  to  farm,  and  over  hill  and  dale,  was  a  species  of 
music  which  even  rivaled  the  popular  melody  of  drum 
and  fife.  Tea — the  evening  meal,  usually  took  place 
about  sundown.  In  families  where  all  were  laborers, 
all  sat  at  table,  servants  as  well  as  masters — the  food 
being  served  before  sitting  down.  In  families  where 
the  masters  and  mistresses  did  not  share  the  labors  of 
the  household  or  the  farm,  the  meals  of  the  domes 
tics  were  had  separate.  There  was,  however,  in  those 
days  a  perfectly  good  understanding  and  good  feeling 
between  the  masters  and  servants.  The  latter  were 
not  Irish ;  they  had  not  as  yet  imbibed  the  pie 
heiau  envy  of  those  above  them,  which  has-  since  so 
generally  embittered  and  embarrassed  American  do 
mestic  life.  The  terms  democrat  and  aristocrat  had 
not  got  into  use:  these  distinctions,  and  the  feelings 
now  implied  by  them,  had  indeed  no  existence  in 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  Our  servants,  during  all 
my  early  life,  were  of  the  neighborhood,  generally 
the  daughters  of  respectable  farmers  and  mechanics, 
and  respecting  others,  were  themselves  respected  and 
cherished.  They  were  devoted  to  the  interests  ol 
the  family,  and  were  always  relied  upon  and  treated 
as  friends.  In  health,  they  had  the  same  food ;  in 
sickness,  the  same  care  as  the  masters  and  mistresses 
or  their  children.  This  servitude  implied  no  degra- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC  AT,,  >ITC.  85 

dation,  because  it  did  not  degrade  the  heart  or  man 
ners  of  those  subjected  to  it.  It  was  never  thought 
of  as  a  reproach  to  a  man  or  woman — in  the  stations 
they  afterwards  filled — that  he  or  she  had  been  out 
to  service.  If  servitude  has  since  become  associated 
with  debasement,  it  is  only  because  servants  them 
selves,  under  the  bad  guidance  of  demagogues,  have 
lowered  their  calling  by  low  feelings  and  low  man 
ners. 

At  the  period  of  my  earliest  recollections,  men  of 
all  classes  were  dressed  in  long,  broad-tailed  coats, 
with  huge  pockets,  long  waistcoats,  and  breeches. 
Hats  had  low  crowns,  with  broad  brims — some  so 
wide  as  to  be  supported  at  the  sides  with  cords.  The 
stockings  of  the  parson,  and  a  few  others,  were  of 
silk  in  summer  and  worsted  in  winter ;  those  of  the 
people  were  generally  of  wool,  and  blue  and  gray 
mixed.  Women  dressed  in  wide  bonnets — some 
times  of  straw  and  sometimes  of  silk :  the  gowns 
were  of  silk,  muslin,  gingham,  &c. — generally  close 
and  short-waisted,  the  breast  and  shoulders  being 
covered  by  a  full  muslin  kerchief.  Girls  ornamented 
themselves  with  a  large  white  Vandyke.  On  the 
whole,  the  dress  of  both  men  and  women  has  greatly 
changed.  As  to  the  former,  short,  snug,  close-fitting 
garments  have  succeeded  to  the  loose  latitudinarian 
coats  of  former  times  :  stove-pipe  hats  have  followed 
broad  brims,  and  pantaloons  have  taken  the  place  of 
breeches.  With  the  other  sex— little  French  bon- 


80  I.KTTKRS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

nets,  set  round  with  glowing  flowers,  flourish  in  the 
plaee  of  the  plain,  yawning  hats  of  yore  ;  then  it  was 
as  much  an  effort  to  make  the  waists  short,  as  it  is 
now  to  make  them  long.  As  to  the  hips,  which  now 
make  so  formidable  a  display — it  seems  to  me  that 
in  the  days  I  allude  to,  ladies  had  none  to  speak  of. 

The  amusements  were  then  much  the  same  as  at 
present — though  some  striking  differences  may  be 
noted.  Books  and  newspapers — which  are  now  dif 
fused  even  among  the  country  towns,  so  as  to  be  in  the 
hands  of  all,  young  and  old — were  then  scarce,  and 
were  read  respectfully,  and  as  if  they  were  grave  mat- 
lei's,  demanding  thought  and  attention.  They  were 
not  toys  and  pastimes,  taken  up  every  day,  and  by 
everybody,  in  the  short  intervals  of  labor,  and  then 
hastily  dismissed,  like  waste  paper.  The  aged  sat 
down  when  they  read,  and  drew  forth  their  specta 
cles,  and  put  them  deliberately  and  reverently  upon 
the  nose.  These  instruments  were  not  as  now,  little 
tortoise-shell  hooks,  attached  to  a  ribbon,  and  put  off 
and  on  with  a  jerk ;  but  they  were  of  silver  or  steel,  sub 
stantially  made,  and  calculated  to  hold  on  with  a  firm 
and  steady  grasp,  showing  the  gravity  of  the  uses  to 
which  they  were  devoted.  Even  the  young  ap 
proached  a  book  with  reverence,  and  a  newspaper 
with  awe.  How  the  world  has  changed  ! 

The  two  great  festivals  were  Thanksgiving  and 
1  training-day"  —the  latter  deriving,  from  the  still  lin 
gering  spirit  of  the  revolutionary  war,  a  decidedly 


IIISTOniCAL,  ANKCDOTTCAL,  ETC.  87 

martial  character.  The  marching  of  the  troops,  and 
the  discharge  of  gunpowder,  which  invariably  closed 
the  exercises,  were  glorious  and  inspiring  mementoes 
of  heroic  achievements,  upon  many  a  bloody  field. 
The  music  of  the  drum  and  fife  resounded  on  every 
side.  A  match  between  two  rival  drummers  always 
drew  an  admiring  crowd,  aud  was  in  fact  one  of  the 
chief  excitements  of  the  great  day. 

Tavern  haunting — especially  in  winter,  when  there 
was  little  to  do — for  manufactures  had  not  then  sprung 
up  to  give  profitable  occupation,  during  this  inclement 
season — was  common,  even  with  respectable  farmers. 
Marriages  were  celebrated  in  the  evening,  at  the  house 
of  the  bride,  with  a  general  gathering  of  the  neigh 
borhood,  and  usually  wound  off  by  dancing.  Every 
body  went,  as  to  a  public  exhibition,  without  invita 
tion.  Funerals  generally  drew  large  processions, 
which  proceeded  to  the  grave.  Here  the  minister 
always  made  an.  address,  suited  to  the  occasion.  If 
there  was  any  thing  remarkable  in  the  history  of  the 
deceased,  it  was  turned  to  religious  account  in  the 
next  Sunday's  sermon.  Singing  meetings,  to  practice 
church  music,  were  a  great  resource  for  the  young,  in 
winter.  Dances  at  private  houses  were  common,  and 
drew  no  reproaches  from  the  sober  people  present. 
Balls  at  the  taverns  were  frequented  by  the  young: 
the  children  of  deacons  and  ministers  attended,  though 
the  parents  did  not.  The  winter  brought  sleighing, 
skating,  and  the  usual  round  of  indoor  sports.  In 


88  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

general,  the  intercourse  of  all  classes  was  kindly  and 
considerate — no  one  arrogating  superiority,  and  yet 
no  one  refusing  to  acknowledge  it,  where  it  existed. 
You  would  hardly  have  noticed  that  there  was  a 
higher  and  a  lower  class.  Such  there  were  certainly, 
for  there  must  always  and  everywhere  be  the  strong 
and  the  weak,  the  wise  and  the  foolish — those  of  supe 
rior  and  those  of  inferior  intellect,  taste,  manners,  ap 
pearance,  and  character.  But  in  our  society,  these 
existed  without  being  felt  as  a  privilege  to  one  which 
must  give  offence  to  another.  The  feuds  between  Up 
and  Down,  which  have  since  disturbed  the  whole  fab 
ric  of  society,  had  not  then  begun. 

It  may  serve,  in  some  degree,  to  throw  light  upon 
the  manners  and  customs  of  this  period,  if  I  give  you 
a  sketch  of  my  two  grandmothers.  Both  were  wid 
ows,  and  were  well  stricken  in  years,  when  they 
came  to  visit  us  at  Ridgefield — about  the  year  1803 
or  4.  My  grandmother  Ely  was  of  the  old  regime 
— a  lady  of  the  old  school,  and  sustaining  the  char 
acter  in  her  upright  carriage,  her  long,  tapering 
waist,  and  her  high-heeled  shoes.  The  costumes  of 
Louis  XV.'s  tune  had  prevailed  in  New  York  and 
.  Boston,  and  even  at  this  period  they  still  lingered 
there,  in  isolated  cases,  though  the  Revolution  had 
generally  exercised  a  transforming  influence  upon  the 
toilet  of  both  men  and  women.  It  is  curious  enough 
that  at  this  moment — 1855 — the  female  attire  of  a 
century  ago  is  revived ;  and  in  every  black-eyed, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  89 

stately  old  lady,  dressed  in  black  silk,  and  showing 
her  steel-gray  hair  beneath  her  cap,  I  can  now  see 
semblances  of  this,  my  maternal  grandmother. 

My  other  grandmother  was  in  all  things  the  oppo 
site  :  short,  fat,  blue -eyed,  practical,  utilitarian.  She 
was  a  good  example  of  the  country  dame — hearty, 
homespun,  familiar,  full  of  strong  sense  and  practical 
energy.  I  scarcely  know  which  of  the  two  I  liked  the 
best.  The  first  sang  me  plaintive  songs  ;  told  me  sto 
ries  of  the  Revolution — her  husband,  Col.  Ely,  hav 
ing  had  a  large  and  painful  share  in  its  vicissitudes; 
she  described  Gen.  Washington,  whom  she  had  seen ; 
and  the  French  officers,  Lafayette,  Rochambeau,  and 
others,  who  had  been  inmates  of  her  house.  She  told 
me  tales  of  even  more  ancient  date,  and  recited  poetry, 
generally  consisting  of  ballads,  which  were  suited  to 
my  taste.  And  all  this  lore  was  commended  to  me 
by  a  voice  of  inimitable  tenderness,  and  a  manner  at 
once  lofty  and  condescending.  My  other  grandmoth 
er  was  not  less  kind,  but  she  promoted  my  happiness 
and  prosperity  in  another  way.  Instead  of  stories, 
she  gave  me  bread  and  butter:  in  place  of  poetry, 
she  fed  me  with  apple-sauce  and  pie.  Never  was 
there  a  more  hearty  old  lady :  she  had  a  firm  con 
viction  that  children  must  be  fed,  and  what  she  be 
lieved,  she  practiced. 


90  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER   VIII. 

Interest  in  Mechanical  Devices — Agriculture — My  Parents  Design  me  for 
a  Carpenter — The  Dawn  of  the  Age  of  Invention — Fulton,  &c. — Per 
petual  Motion —  Whittling — Gentlemen — St.  Paul,  King  Alfred,  Dan 
iel  Webster,  &c. — Desire  of  Improvement,  a  New  England  Character 
istic^- Hunting — The  Bow  and  Arrow — The  Fowling-piece — Pigeons — 
Anecdote  of  Parson,  M .  . . . — Aud-ubon  and  Wilson — The  Passenger 
Pigeon — Sporting  Rambles — The  Blacksnake  and  Screech-owl — Fishing 
— Advantages  of  Country  Life  and  Country  Training. 

MY  DEAR  C;****** 

I  can  recollect  with  great  vividness  the  interest 
I  took  in  the  domestic  events  I  have  described,  and 
which  circled  with  the  seasons  in  our  household  at 
this  period.  I  had  no  great  interest  in  the  operations 
of  the  farm.  Plowing,  hoeing,  digging,  seemed  to 
me  mere  drudgery,  imparting  no  instruction,  and  af 
fording  no  scope  for  ingenuity  or  invention.  I  had 
not  yet  learned  to  contemplate  agriculture  in  its  eco 
nomical  aspect,  nor  had  my  mind  yet  risen  to  that 
still  higher  view  of  husbandry,  which  leads  to  a  sci 
entific  study  of  the  soil  and  the  seasons,  and  teaches 
man  to  become  a  kind  of  second  Providence  to  those 
portions  of  the  earth  which  are  subjected  to  his  care. 
The  mechanical  operations  I  have  described,  as  well 
as  others — especially  those  of  the  weaver  and  carpen 
ter,  on  the  contrary,  stimulated  my  curiosity,  and  ex 
cited  my  emulation.  Thus  I  soon  became  familiar  with 
the  tools  of  the  latter,  and  made  such  windmills, 


HISTORICAL,    ANRCDOTICAL,    ETC.  91 

kites,  and  perpetual  motions,  as  to  extort  the  admi 
ration  of  my  playmates,  and  excite  the  respect  of  my 
parents,  so  that  they  seriously  meditated  putting  me 
apprentice  to  a  carpenter.  Up  to  the  age  of  fourteen, 
I  think  this  was  regarded  as  my  manifest  destiny.  I 
certainly  took  great  delight  in  mechanical  devices, 
and  became  a  celebrity  on  pine  shingles  with  a  pen 
knife.  It  was  a  day  of  great  endeavors  among  all 
inventive  geniuses.  Fulton  was  struggling  to  develop 
steam  navigation,  and  other  discoverers  were  thunder 
ing  at  the  gates  of  knowledge,  and  seeking  to  unfold 
the  wonders  of  art  as  well  as  of  nature.  It  was,  in  fact, 
the  very  threshold  of  the  era  of  steamboats,  railroads, 
electric  telegraphs,  and  a  thousand  other  useful  dis 
coveries,  which  have  since  changed  the  face  of  the 
world.  In  this  age  of  excitement,  perpetual  motion 
was  the  great  hobby  of  aspiring  mechanics,  as  it 
has  been  indeed  ever  since.  I  pondered  and  whit 
tled  intensely  on  this  subject  before  I  was  ten  years 
old.  Despairing  of  reaching  my  object  by  mechan 
ical  means,  I  attempted  to  arrive  at  it  by  magnetism, 
my  father  having  bought  me  a  pair  of  horse-shoe 
magnets  in  one  of  his  journeys  to  New  Haven.  I 
should  have  succeeded,  had  it  not  been  a  principle 
in  the  nature  of  this  curious  element,  that  no  sub 
stance  will  instantly  intercept  the  stream  of  attraction. 
I  tried  to  change  the  poles,  and  turn  the  north  against 
the  south ;  but  there  too  nature  had  headed  me,  and 
of  course  I  failed. 


92  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

A  word,  by  the  way,  on  the  matter  of  whittling. 
This  is  generally  represented  as  a  sort  of  idle,  fidgety, 
frivolous  use  of  the  penknife,  and  is  set  down  by  amia 
ble  foreigners  and  sketchers  of  American  manners  as 
a  peculiar  characteristic  of  our  people.  No  portrait  of 
an  American  is  deemed  complete,  whether  in  the  sa 
loon  or  the  senate-chamber,  at  home  or  on  the  high 
way,  unless  with  penknife  and  shingle  in  hand.  I 
feel  not  the  slightest  disposition  to  resent  even  this, 
among  the  thousand  caricatures  that  pass  for  traits 
of  American  life.  For  my  own  part,  I  can  testify 
that,  during  my  youthful,  days,  I  found  the  pen 
knife  a  source  of  great  amusement  and  even  of  in 
struction.  Many  a  long  winter  evening,  many  a  dull, 
drizzly  day,  in  spring  and  summer  and  autumn — some 
times  at  the  kitchen  fireside,  sometimes  in  the  attic, 
amid  festoons  of  dried  apples,  peaches,  and  pumpkins ; 
sometimes  in  a  cosy  nook  of  the  barn  ;  sometimes  in 
the  shelter  of  a  neighboring  stone- wall,  thatched  over 
with  wild  grape-vines — have  I  spent  in  great  ecstasy, 
making  candle-rods,  or  some  other  simple  article  of 
household  goods,  for  my  mother,  or  in  perfecting 
toys  for  myself  and  my  young  friends,  or  perhaps 
in  attempts  at  more  ambitious  achievements.  This 
was  not  mere  waste  of  time,  mere  idleness  and 
dissipation.  I  was  amused :  that  was  something. 
Some  of  the  pleasantest  remembrances  of  my  child 
hood  carry  me  back  to  the  scenes  I  have  just  indi 
cated,  when  in  happy  solitude,  absorbed  in  my  me- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  93 

chanical  devices,  I  still  listened  to  the  rain  pattering 
upon  the  roof,  or  the  wind  roaring  down  the  chimney 
— thus  enjoying  a  double  bliss — a  pleasing  occupa 
tion,  with  a  conscious  delight  in  my  sense  of  security 
from  the  rage  of  the  elements  without. 

Nay  more  —  these  occupations  were  instructive: 
my  mind  was  stimulated  to  inquire  into  the  mechan 
ical  powers,  and  my  hand  was  educated  to  mechanical 
dexterity.  Smile,  if  you  please — but  reflect !  Why 
is  it,  that  we  in  the  United  States  surpass  all  other 
nations,  in  the  excellence  of  our  tools  of  all  kinds  ? 
Why  are  our  axes,  knives,  hoes,  spades,  plows,  the 
best  in  the  world?  Because — in  part,  at  least — 
we  learn,  in  early  life,  this  alphabet  of  mechanics  the 
oretical  and  practical — whittling.  Nearly  every  head 
and  hand  is  trained  to  it.  We  know  and  feel  the 
difference  between  dull  and  sharp  tools.  At  ten 
years  old,  we  are  all  epicures  in  cutting  instruments. 
This  is  the  beginning,  and  we  go  on,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  toward  perfection.  The  inventive  head,  and 
the  skillful,  executing  hand,  thus  become  general, 
national,  characteristic  among  us. 

I  am  perfectly  aware  that  some  people,  in  this 
country  as  well  as  others,  despise  labor,  and  espe 
cially  manual  labor,  as  ungenteel.  There  are  people 
in  these  United  States  who  scoff  at  New  England  on 
account  of  this  general  use  of  thrifty,  productive 
industry,  among  our  people  as  a  point  of  education. 
The  gentleman,  say  these  refined  persons,  must  not 


94  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

work.  It  is  not  easy  to  cite  a  higher  example  of  a 
gentleman — in  thought,  feeling,  and  manner — than 
St.  Paul,  and  he  was  a  tent-maker :  King  Alfred  was 
a  gentleman,  and  he  could  turn  his  hand  to  servile 
labor.  But  let  me  refer  to  New  England  examples. 
Daniel  Webster  was  a  gentleman,  and  he  began  with 
the  scythe  and  the  plow ;  Abbot  Lawrence  was  a 
gentleman,  and  he  served  through  every  grade,  an 
apprenticeship  to  his  profession ;  Timothy  Dwight 
was  a  gentleman,  and  was  trained  to  the  positive  la 
bors  of  the  farm ;  Franklin,  the  printer ;  Sherman, 
the  shoemaker;  Ellsworth,  the  teamster — all  were  gen 
tlemen,  and  of  that  high  order  which  regards  truth, 
honor,  manliness,  as  its  essential  basis.  Nothing,  in 
my  view,  is  more  despicable,  nothing  more  calculated 
to  diffuse  and  cherish  a  debasing  effeminacy  of  body 
and  soul,  than  the  doctrine  that  labor  is  degrading. 
Where  such  ideas  prevail,  rottenness  lies  at  the  foun 
dation  of  society. 

But  to  go  back  to  my  theme.  If  you  ask  me 
why  it  is  that  this  important  institution  of  whit 
tling  is  indigenous  among  us,  I  reply,  that,  in  the 
first  place,  our  country  is  full  of  a  great  variety  of 
woods,  suited  to  carpentry,  many  of  them  easily 
wrought,  and  thus  inviting  boyhood  to  try  its  hands 
upon  them.  In  the  next  place,  labor  is  dear,  and 
therefore  even  children  are  led  to  supply  themselves 
with  toys,  or  perchance  to  furnish  some  of  the  sim 
pler  articles  of  use  to  the  household.  This  dearness 


WHITTLING.     Vol.  1,  p.  94. 


HISTORICAL,  ANLCDOT1CAL,  ETC.  95 

of  labor,  moreover,  furnishes  a  powerful  stimulant 
to  the  production  of  labor-saving  machines,  and 
hence  it  is — through  all  these  causes,  co-operating 
one  with  another — that  steam  navigation,  the  elec 
tric  telegraph,  the  steam  reaper,  &c.,  &c.,  are  Ameri 
can  inventions  :  hence  it  is  that,  whether  it  be  at  the 
"World's  Fair  in  London  or  Paris,  we  gain  a  greater 
proportion  of  prizes  for  useful  inventions,  than  any 
other  people.  That  is  what  comes  of  whittling  ! 

There  is  no  doubt  another  element  to  be  considered 
in  a  close  and  philosophical  view  of  what  I  state — 
this  aptitude  of  our  people,  especially  those  of  New 
England,  for  mechanical  invention.  The  desire  of 
improvement  is  inherent  in  the  New  England  char 
acter.  This  springs  from  two  principles :  first,  a 
moral  sense,  founded  upon  religious  ideas,  making 
it  the  duty  of  every  man  to  seek  constantly  to  be  and 
do  better,  day  by  day,  as  he  advances  in  life.  This 
is  the  great  main-spring,  set  in  the  heart  by  Puritan 
ism.  Its  action  reaches  alike  to  time  and  to  eternity. 
Mr.  Webster  well  illustrated  the  New  England  char 
acter  in  this  respect,  when  he  describes  his  father  as 
"  shrinking  from  no  toil,  no  sacrifice,  to  serve  his 
country,  and  to  raise  his  children  to  a  condition  bet 
ter  than  his  own."  This  desire  of  improvement  is 
indeed  extended  to  the  children,  and  animates  the 
bosom  of  every  parent. 

The  other  principle  I  allude  to  is  liberty,  civil 
and  social — actual  and  practical.  New  England  is 


9t)  LKTTKKS — BIOGKAPHICAL, 

probably  the  only  country  in  the  world,  where  every 
man,  generally  speaking,  has  or  can  have  the  means 
— that  is,  the  money,  the  intelligence,  the  knowledge, 
the  power — to  choose  his  career ;  to  say  where  he 
will  live,  what  profession  he  will  follow,  what  po 
sition  he  will  occupy. 

It  is  this  moral  sense,  in  every  man's  bosom,  im 
pelling  him  to  seek  improvement  in  all  things,  co 
operating  with  this  liberty,  giving  him  the  right 
and  the  ability  to  seek  happiness  in  his  own  way 
— which  forms  this  universal  spirit  of  improvement 
— the  distinguishing  feature  of  the  New  England 
people.  It  is  this  which  has  conquered  our  savage 
climate,  subdued  the  forests,  and  planted  the  whole 
country  with  smiling  towns  and  villages  :  it  is  this 
which  has  established  a  system  of  universal  educa 
tion,  cherished  religion,  promoted  literature,  founded 
benign  institutions,  perfected  our  political  system, 
and  abolished  negro  slavery,  imposed  upon  us  by  the 
mother  country. 

It  is  easy  to  trace  the  operations  of  this  principle 
in  the  humblest  as  well  as  the  highest  classes.  The 
man  at  the  plow  is  not  a  mere  drudge :  he  is  not  like 
the  debased  subject  of  European  despotism,  a  servile 
tool,  an  unthinking,  unhoping,  unaspiring  animal,  to 
use  his  muscles,  without  thought  as  to  the  result  of 
his  labor.  Let  me  tell  you  an  anecdote  which  will 
illustrate  this  matter.  Some  years  ago,  a  young  New 
Englander  found  himself  in  the  back  parts  of  Penn- 


HISTORICAL,  ANEODOT1CAL,  ETC.  07 

sylvania,  ashore  as  to  the  means  of  living.  In  this 
strait  he  applied  to  a  wealthy  Quaker  in  the  neigh 
borhood  for  help. 

"I  will  furnish  thee  with  work,  and  pay  thee  for 
it,  friend,"  said  the  Quaker ;  "  but  it  is  not  my  cus 
tom  to  give  alms  to  one  able  to  labor,  like  thee." 

"  Well,  that's  all  I  want,"  said  the  Yankee  :  "  of 
course  I  am  willing  to  work." 

"  What  can  thee  do,  friend  ?" 

"Any  thing.  I  will  do  any  thing,  to  get  a  little 
money,  to  help  me  out  of  my  difficulties." 

"  Well — there  is  a  log  yonder ;  and  there  is  an 
axe.  Thee  may  pound  on  the  log  with  the  head  of 
the  axe,  and  if  thee  is  diligent  and  faithful,  I  will  pay 
thee  a  dollar  a  day." 

"  Agreed  :  I'd  as  soon  do  that  as  any  thing  else." 

And  so  the  youth  went  to  work,  and  pounded 
lustily  with  the  head  of  the  axe  upon  the  log.  After 
a  time  he  paused  to  take  breath ;  then  be  began  again. 
But  after  half  an  hour  he  stopped,  threw  down  the 
axe  impatiently,  and  walked  away,  saying,  "  I'll  be 
hanged  if  I'll  cut'  wood  without  seeing  the  chips  fly  1" 

Thus  the  Yankee  laborer  has  a  mind  that  must  be 
contented  :  he  looks  to  the  result  of  his  labor ;  and  if 
his  tools  or  implements  are  imperfect,  his  first  im 
pulse  is  to  improve  them,  and  finally  to  perfect  them. 
In  this  endeavor,  he  is  of  course  aided  by  the  me 
chanical  aptitude,  to  which  I  have  already  alluded ; 
and  hence  it  is,  that  not  only  our  utensils,  for  every 

VOL.  I.— ft 


98  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

species  of  common  work,  but  our  machines  generally 
for  the  saving  of  labor,  are  thus  excellent.  With 
what  painful  sympathy  have  I  seen  the  peasants  in 
ingenious  France  and  classic  Italy  sweating  and  toil 
ing  with  uncouth,  unhandy  implements,  which  have 
undergone  no  improvement  for  a  thousand  years, 
and  which  abundantly  bespeak  the  despotism  which 
for  that  period  has  kept  their  minds  as  well  as  their 
bodies  in  bondage !  You  will  not  wonder  that  such 
observations  have  carried  me  back  to  my  native  New 
England,  and  taught  me  to  appreciate  the  character 
and  institutions  of  its  people. 

I  must  add,  in  descending  from  this  lofty  digres 
sion  to  my  simpler  story,  that  in  these  early  days,  I 
was  a  Nimrod,  a  mighty  hunter — first  with  a  bow 
and  arrow,  and  afterward  with  the  old  hereditary 
firelock,  which  snapped  six  times  and  went  off  once. 
The  smaller  kinds  of  game  were  abundant.  The 
thickets  teemed  with  quails  ;*  partridges  drummed  in 
every  wood  ;  the  gray-squirrel — the  most  picturesque 
animal  of  our  forests — enlivened  every  hickory  copse 
with  his  mocking  laugh,  his  lively  gambols,  and  his 
long  bannered  tail.  The  pigeons  in  spring  and  au 
tumn  migrated  in  countless  flocks,  and  many  lin 
gered  in  our  woods  for  the  season, 

Everybody  was  then  a  hunter,   not  of  course  a 


*  The  American  quail  is  a  species  of  partridge,  in  size  between  the 
European  quail  and  partridge.  The  partridge  of  New  England  is  the 
pheatant  of  the  South,  and  the  ruffed  grouse  of  the  naturalists. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOT1CAL,  ETC.  99 

sportsman,  for  the  chase  was  followed  more  for 
profit  than  for  pastime.  Grame  was,  in  point  of  fact, 
a  substantial  portion  of  the  supply  of  food  at  cer 
tain  seasons  of  the  year.  All  were  then  good  shots, 
and  my  father  could  not  be  an  exception :  he  was 
even  beyond  his  generation  in  netting  pigeons.  This 
was  not  deemed  a  reproach  at  that  time  in  a  clergy 
man,  nor  was  he  the  only  parson  that  indulged  in 
these  occupations.  One  day,  as  I  was  with  him  on  West 
Mountain,  baiting  pigeons,  we  had  seduced  a  flock  of 
three  or  four  dozen  down  into  the  bed  where  they 
were  feeding — my  father  and  myself  lying  concealed 
in  our  bush-hut,  close  by.  Suddenly,  whang  went  a 
gun  into  the  middle  of  the  flock  !  Out  we  ran  in 
great  indignation,  for  at  least  a  dozen  of  the  birds 
were  bleeding  and  fluttering  before  us.  Scarcely  had 
we  reached  the  spot,  when  we  met  Parson  M  . . . .  of 
Lower  Salem,  who  had  thus  unwittingly  poached 
upon  us.  The  two  clergymen  had  first  a  flurry  and 
then  a  good  laugh,  after  which  they  divided  the  plun 
der  and  parted. 

The  stories  told  by  Wilson  and  Audubon  as  to  the 
amazing  quantity  of  pigeons  in  the  West,  were  real 
ized  by  us  in  Connecticut  half  a  century  ago.  I  have 
seen  a  stream  of  these  noble  birds,  pouring  at  brief 
intervals  through  the  skies,  from  the  rising  to  the 
setting  sun,  and  this  in  the  county  of  Fairfield.  I  may 
here  add,  that  of  all  the  pigeon  tribe,  this  of  our  coun 
try — the  passenger  pigeon — is  the  swiftest  and  most 


100  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

beautiful  of  a  swift  and  beautiful  generation.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  unquestionably  superior  to  any  other 
for  the  table.  All  the  other  species  of  the  eastern  as 
well  as  the  western  continent,  which  I  have  tasted, 
are  soft  and  flavorless  in  comparison. 

I  can  recollect  no  sports  of  my  youth  which  equal 
ed  in  excitement  our  pigeon  hunts,  generally  ta 
king  place  in  September  and  October.  We  usually 
started  on  horseback  before  daylight,  and  made  a 
rapid  progress  to  some  stubble-field  on  West  Mount 
ain.  The  ride  in  the  keen,  fresh  air,  especially  as  the 
dawn  began  to  break,  was  delightful.  The  gradual 
encroachment  of  day  upon  the  night,  filled  my  mind 
with  sublime  images :  the  waking  up  of  a  world  from 
sleep,  the  joyousness  of  birds  and  beasts  in  the  re 
turn  of  morning,  and  my  own  sympathy  in  this 
cheerful  and  grateful  homage  of  the  heart  to  God, 
the  Giver  of  good — all  contributed  to  render  these 
adventures  most  impressive  upon  my  young  heart. 
My  memory, is  still  full  of  the  sights  and  sounds  of 
those  glorious  mornings :  the  silvery  whistle  of  the 
wings  of  migrating  flocks  of  plover — invisible  in  the 
gray  mists  of  dawn  ;  the  faint  murmur  of  the  distant 
mountain  torrents ;  the  sonorous  gong  of  the  long- 
trailing  flocks  of  wild  geese,  seeming  to  come  from 
the  unseen  depths  of  the  skies — these  were  among  the 
suggestive  sounds  that  stole  through  the  dim  twilight. 
As  morning  advanced,  the  scene  was  inconceivably 
beautiful — the  mountain  sides,  clothed  in  autumnal 


CATCHING_PIGEONS.     Vol.  1,  p.  100. 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  101 

green  and  purple  and  gold,  rendered  more  glowing  by 
the  sunrise — with  the  valleys  covered  with  mists  and 
spreading  out  like  lakes  of  silver;  while  on  every 
side  the  ear  was  saluted  by  the  mocking  screams  of 
the  red-headed  woodpecker,  the  cawing  of  congresses 
of  crows,  clamorous  as  if  talking  to  Buncombe;  and 
finally  the  rushing  sound  of  the  pigeons,  pouring  like 
a  tide  over  the  tops  of  the  trees. 

By  this  time  of  course  our  nets  were  ready,  and 
our  flyers  and  stool-birds  on  the  alert.  What  mo 
ments  of  ecstasy  were  these,  and  especially  when  the 
head  of  the  flock — some  red-breasted  old  father  or 
grandfather — caught  the  sight  of  our  pigeons,  and 
turning  at  the  call,  drew  the  whole  train  down  into 
our  net-bed.  I  have  often  seen  a  hundred,  or  two 
hundred  of  these  splendid  birds,  come  upon  us,  with 
a  noise  absolutely  deafening,  and  sweeping  the  air 
with  a  sudden  gust,  like  the  breath  of  a  thunder 
cloud.  Sometimes  our  bush-hut,  where  we  lay  con 
cealed,  was  covered  all  over  with  pigeons,  and  we 
dared  not  move  a  finger,  as  their  red,  piercing  eyes 
were  upon  us.  When  at  last,  with  a  sudden  pull  of 
the  rope,  the  net  was  sprung,  and  we  went  out  to 
secure  our  booty — often  fifty,  and  sometimes  even  a 
hundred  birds — I  felt  a  fullness  of  triumph,  which 
words  are  wholly  inadequate  to  express ! 

Up  to  the  age  of  eight  years,  I  was  never  trusted 
with  a  gun.  Whenever  I  went  forth  as  a  sportsman  on 
my  own  account,  it  was  only  with  a  bow  and  arrow 


104  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

associations  —  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual  —  are 
thus  established  and  developed. 

It  is  a  riddle  to  many  people  that  the  emigrants 
from  the  country  into  the  city,  in  all  ages,  outstrip 
the  natives,  and  become  their  masters.  The  reason 
is  obvious :  country  education  and  country  life  are 
practical,  and  invigorating  to  body  and  mind,  and 
hence  those  who  are  thus  qualified  triumph  in  the 
race  of  life.  It  has  always  been,  it  will  always  be 
so  ;  the  rustic  Goths  and  Yandals  will  march  in  and 
conquer  Home,  in  the  future,  as  they  have  done  in 
the  past.  I  say  this,  by  no  means  insisting  that  my 
own  life  furnishes  any  very  striking  proof  of  the  truth 
of  my  remarks ;  still,  I  may  say  that  but  for  the 
country  training  and  experience  I  have  alluded  to, 
and  which  served  as  a  foothold  for  subsequent  prog 
ress,  I  should  have  lingered  in  my  career  far  behind 
the  humble  advances  I  have  actually  made. 

Let  me  illustrate  and  verify  my  meaning  by  spe 
cific  examples.  In  my  youth  I  became  familiar  with 
every  bird  common  to  the  country  :  I  knew  his  call, 
his  song,  his  hue,  his  food,  his  habits ;  in  short,  his 
natural  history.  I  could  detect  him  by  his  flight,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  I  knew  all  the  quadru 
peds — wild  as  well  as  tame.  I  was  acquainted  with 
almost  every  tree,  shrub,  bush,  and  flower,  indige 
nous  to  the  country ;  not  botanically,  but  according 
to  popular  ideas.  I  recognized  them  instantly,  where- 
over  I  saw  them ;  I  knew  their  forms,  hues,  leaves. 


HISTORICAL,  AXKCDOTICAL,  KTC.  105 

blossoms,  and  fruit.  I  could  tell  their  characteristics, 
their  uses,  the  legends  and  traditions  that  belonged 
to  them.  All  this  I  learned  by  familiarity  with  these 
objects  ;  meeting  with  them  in  all  my  walks  and  ram 
bles,  and  taking  note  of  them  with  the  emphasis  and 
vigor  of  early  experience  and  observation.  In  after 
days,  I  have  never  had  time  to  make  natural  history 
a  systematic  study ;  yet  my  knowledge  as  to  these 
things  has  constantly  accumulated,  and  that  without 
special  effort.  When  I  have  traveled  in  other  coun 
tries,  the  birds,  the  animals,  the  vegetation,  have  in 
terested  me  as  well  by  their  resemblances  as  their 
differences,  when  compared  with  our  own.  In  look 
ing  over  the  pages  of  scientific  works  on  natural  his 
tory,  I  have  always  read  with  the  eagerness  and  in 
telligence  of  preparation  ;  indeed,  of  vivid  and  pleasing 
aasociations.  Every  idea  I  had  touching  these  mat 
ters  was  living  and  sympathetic,  and  beckoned  other 
ideas  to  it,  and  these  again  originated  still  others. 
Thus  it  is  that  in  the  race  of  a  busy  life,  by  means  of 
a  homely,  hearty  start  at  the  beginning,  I  have,  as 
to  these  subjects,  easily  and  naturally  supplied,  in 
some  humble  degree,  the  defects  of  my  irregular  edu 
cation,  and  that  too,  not  by  a  process  of  repulsive 
toil,  but  with  a  relish  superior  to  all  the  seductions 
of  romance.  I  am  therefore  a  believer  in  the  benefits 
accruing  from  simple  country  life  and  simple  coun 
try  habits,  as  here  illustrated,  and  am  therefore,  on 
all  occasions,  anxious  to  recommend  them  to  my 


106  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

friends  and  countrymen.  To  city  people,  I  would 
say,  educate  your  children,  at  least  partially,  in  the 
country,  so  as  to  imbue  them  with  the  love  'of  na 
ture,  and  that  knowledge  and  training  which  spring 
from  simple  rustic  sports,  exercises,  and  employ 
ments.  To  country  people,  I  would  remark,  be  not 
envious  of  the  city,  for  in  the  general  balance  of 
good  and  evil,  you  have  your  full  portion  of  the  first, 
with  a  diminished  share  of  the  last. 


LETTER    IX. 

Death  of  Washington  —  Jefferson  and  Democracy  —  Ridgefald  on  the  Great 
ThorO'ughfare  between  New  York  and  Boston  —  Jerome  Bonaparte  and 
hi*  Young  Wife  —  Oliver  Wolcott,  Governor  Treadwett,  and  Deacon  Olm- 
stead  —  Inauguration  of  Jefferson  —  Jerry  Mead  and  Ensign  feeler  — 
Democracy  and  Federalism  —  Charter  of  Ciiarles  II.  —  Elizur  Goodrich, 
Deacon  Bishop,  and  President  Jefferson  —  Abraham  Bishop  and  "  A)x>ut 
Enough,  Democracy' 


MY    DEAR 

The  incidents  I  have  just  related  revolved  about 
the  period  of  1800  —  some  a  little  earlier  and  some  a 
little  later.  Among  the  events  of  general  interest 
that  occurred  near  this  time,  I  remember  the  death 
of  Washington,  which  took  place  in  1799,  and  was 
commemorated  all  through  the  country  by  the  tolling 
of  bells,  funeral  ceremonies,  orations,  sermons,  hymns, 
and  dirges,  attended  by  n  mournful  sense  of  loss, 


HISTORICAL.   ANECDOTIC  A  I.,  ETC.  107 

seeming  to  cast  a  pall  over  the  entire  heavens.  In 
Bidgefield,  the  meeting-house  was  dressed  in  black, 
and  we  had  a  discourse  pronounced  by  a  Mr.  Ed 
monds,  of  Newtown.  The  subject,  indeed,  engrossed 
all  minds.  Lieutenant  Smith  came  every  day  to  our 
house  to  talk  over  the  event,  and  to  bring  us  the  pro 
ceedings  in  different  parts  of  the  country.  Among 
other  papers,  he  brought  us  a  copy  of  the  Connec 
ticut  Courant,  then,  as  now,  orthodox  in  all  good 
things,  and  according  to  the  taste  of  the  times, 
duly  sprinkled  with  murders,  burglaries,  and  awful 
disclosures  in  general.  This  gave  us  the  particu 
lars  of  the  rites  and  ceremonies  which  took  place  in 
Hartford,  in  commemoration  of  the  Great  Man's  de 
cease.  The  paper  was  bordered  with  black,  which 
left  its  indelible  ink  in  my  memory.  The  celebrated 
hymn,*  written  for  the  occasion  by  Theodore  D  wight, 
sank  into  my  mother's  heart — for  she  had  a  constitu- 


*  HYMN  sung  at  Hartford,  Conn.,  during1  religious  services  performed 
on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  George  Washington,  Dec.  27th,  1799. 

What  solemn  sounds  the  ear  invade  ? 
What  wraps  the  land  in  sorrow's  shade  ? 
From  heaven  the  awful  mandate  flies — 
The  Father  of  his  Country  dies. 

Let  every  heart  be  till'd  with  woe, 
Let  every  eye  with  tears  o'erflow  ; 
Each  form,  oppress'd  with  deepest  gloom, 
Be  clad  in  vestments  of  the  tomb. 

Behold  that  venerable  band — 
The  rulers  of  our  mourning  land, 
With  grief  proclaim  from  shore  to  shore, 
Our  guide,  our  Washington's  no  more. 


108  i.rm.i:- — Dionn. \riucAL, 

tional  love  of  things  mournful  and  poetic — and  she 
often  repeated  it,  so  that  it  became  a  part  of  the  cher 
ished  lore  of  my  childhood.  This  hymn  has  ever 
since  been  to  me  suggestive  of  a  solemn  pathos,  min 
gled  with  the  Eidgefield  commemoration  of  Wash 
ington's  death — the  black  drapery  of  the  meeting 
house,  and  the  toll  of  those  funeral  bells,  far,  far  over 
the  distant  hills,  now  lost  and  now  remembered,  as  if 
half  a  dream  and  half  a  reality — yet  for  these  reasons, 
perhaps,  the  more  suggestive  and  the  more  mournful. 
I  give  you  these  scenes  and  feelings  in  some  detail, 
to  impress  you  with  the  depth  and  sincerity  of  this 
mourning  of  the  American  nation,  in  cities  and  towns, 
in  villages  and  hamlets,  for  the  death  of  Washington. 
It  seems  to  me  wholesome  to  go  back  and  sympathize 
with  those  who  had  stood  in  his  presence,  and  catch 
from  them  the  feeling  which  should  be  sacredly  cher 
ished  in  all  future  time.* 


Where  shall  our  country  torn  its  eye? 
What  help  remains  beneath  the  sky  ? 
Our  Friend,  Protector,  Strength,  and  Trust, 
Lies  low,  and  mouldering  in  the  dust. 

Almighty  God  !  to  Thee  we  fly ; 
Before  Thy  throne  above  the  sky, 
In  deep  prostration  humbly  bow, 
And  pour  the  penitential  vow. 

Hear,  0  Most  High  !  our  earnest  prayer— 
Our  country  take  beneath  Thy  care ; 
When  dangers  press  and  foes  draw  near, 
Let  future  Washingtons  appear. 

*  Mr.  Jefferson   and  his  satellites  had  begun  their  attacks  upon 
Washington  several  years  before  this  poriod  ;  but  beyond  the  circle  of 


AN'KCDOTK'AL,  J.TC.  109 

I  have  already  said  that  Eidgefield  was  on  the 
great  thoroughfare  between  Boston  and  New  York, 
for  the  day  of  steamers  and  railroads  had  not 

interested  partisans,  and  those  to  whom  virtue  is  a  reproach  and  glory 
an  offence,  they  had  not  yet  corrupted  or  abused  the  hearts  of  the  peo 
ple.  Some  years  later,  under  the  presidency  of  Jefferson  and  his  im 
mediate  successor,  democracy  being  in  the  ascendant,  Washington 
seemed  to  be  fading  from  the  national  remembrance.  Jefferson  was 
then  the  master  ;  and  even  somewhat  later,  a  distinguished  Senator  said 
in  his  place  in  Congress,  that  his  name  and  his  principles  exercised  a 
greater  influence  over  the  minds  of  the  people  of  his  native  State — Vir 
ginia — than  even  the  "  Father  of  his  Country."  Strange  to  say,  thin 
declaration  was  made  rather  in  the  spirit  of  triumph  than  of  humiliation. 
At  the  present  day  the  name  of  Jefferson  has  lost  much  of  its  charm  in 
the  United  States:  democracy  itself  seeirns  to  be  taking  down  its  first 
idol,  and  placing  Andrew  Jackson  upon  the  pedestal.  Formerly  "  Jrf- 
ffrson  Democracy1''  was  the  party  watchword :  now  it  is  "  Jackson  De 
mocracy."  The  disclosures  of  the  last  thirty  years — made  by  Mr.  Jeffer 
son's  own  correspondence,  and  that  of  others — show  him  to  ha»ve  been 
very  different  from  what  he  appeared  to  be.  Had  his  true  charade* 
been  fully  understood,  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  ever  have  been  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States.  He  was  in  fact  a  marvelous  compound  of 
good  and  evil,  and  it  is  not  stransre  that  it  has  taken  time  to  comprehend 
him.  He  was  a  man  of  rare  intellectual  faculties,  but  he  had  one  defect 
— ft  want  of  practical  controlling  faith  in  God  and  man — in  human  truth 
and  human  virtue.  He  did  good  things,  great  things  :  he  aided  to  con 
struct  noble  institutions,  but  he  undermined  them  by  taking  away  their 
foundations.  He  was,  in  most  respects,  the  opposite  of  Washington, 
and  hence  his  hatred  of  him  was  no  doubt  sincere.  We  may  even  sup 
pose  that  the  virulent  abuse  which  he  caused  to  be  heaped  upon  him  by 
hireling  editors,  was  at  least  partially  founded  upon  conviction.  Wash 
ington  believed  in  God,  and  made  right  the  starting-point  of  all  his  ac 
tions.  Next  to  God,  was  his  country.  His  principles  went  before ; 
there  was  no  expediency  for  him,  that  was  not  dictated  by  rectitude 
of  thought,  word,  and  deed.  He  was  a  democrat,  but  in  the  English, 
Puritan,  sense — that  of  depositing  power  in  the  hands  of  the  people, 
and  of  seeking  to  guide  them  only  by  the  truth — by  instructing 
them,  elevating  them,  and  exclusively  for  their  own  good.  Jefferson, 
on  the  contrary,  was  a  democrat  according  to  French  ideas,  and  those 
of  the  loosest  days  of  the  Revolution.  Expediency  was  with  him  the 
betrinninsr,  the  middle,  the  end  of  conduct.  God  seems  not  to  have 
been  in  all  his  thought.  He  penetrated  the  masses  with  his  astute  in 
telligence  :  he  had  soon  in  Paris  how  they  could  be  deluded,  stimulated, 


110  LETTKRS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

dawned.  Even  the  mania  for- turnpikes,  which  ere 
long  overspread  New  England,  had  not  yet  arrived. 
The  stage-coaches  took  four  days  to  make  the  trip 
of  two  hundred  miles  between  the  two  great  cities. 
In  winter,  the  journey  was  often  protracted  to  a 
week,  and  during  the  furious  snow-storms  of  those 
times,  to  eight  or  ten  days.  With  such  public  con- 


led,  and  especially  by  artful  appeals  to  the  baser  passions.  His  party 
policy  seems  to  have  been  founded  upon  alow  estimate  of  human  na 
ture  in  general,  and  a  contempt  of  the  majority  in  particular.  Hence, 
in  attempting  to  elevate  himself  to  the  chief  magistracy  of  the  Union, 
nis  method  was  to  vilify  Washington,  and  at  the  same  time  to  pay  court 
to  the  foibles,  prejudices,  and  low  propensities  of  the  million.  Dema- 
gogism  was  his  system,  and  never  was  it  more  seductively  practiced. 
Over  all  there  was  a  profound  vaiJ  of  dissimulation  ;  a  placid  philosophy 
seemed  .to  sit  upon  his  face,  even  while  he  was  secretly  urging  the  as 
sassin's  blade  to  the  hilt,  against  the  name  and  fame  of  him  who  was 
"  first  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen." 
Simplicity  and  humility  appeared  to  rule  in  his  bosom,  while  yet  he  was 
steadily  paving  his  way  to  power.  He  succeeded,  and  through  the  pres 
tige  of  his  position,  the  original  democracy  of  the  United  States  was  oast 
in  his  image.  He  was  the  father,  the  founder,  the  establishor  of  dema- 
gogism  in  this  country,  and  this  unmanly  and  debasing  system  of  pol 
icy  has  since  continued  to  contaminate  and  debauch  the  politics  of  the 
land. 

There  is  perhaps  some  growing  disgust  at  this  state  of  things,  but 
whether  we  shall  ever  return  to  the  open,  manly,  patriotic  principles 
and  practice  of  Washington,  is  a  question  which  no  man  can  presume 
tp  answer.  At  all  events,  it  seems  to  me,  every  one  who  lias  influence 
should  sedulously  exert  it  to  purify,  elevate,  and  ennoble  the  public 
spirit.  As  one  means,  let  us  ever  keep  in  view — let  us  study  and  cher 
ish — the  character  of  Washington.  Let  our  politicians  even,  do  this, 
i\nd  while  they  esteem  and  follow  what  was  really  good  in  Jefferson,  let 
tiiem  beware  how  they  commend  his  character  us  an  example  to  those 
over  whom  they  exercise  a  controlling  influence. 

1'ower  is  ennobling,  when  honorably  acquired,  and  patriotically  em 
ployed  ;  but  when  obtained  by  intrigue,  aud  used  for  selfish  ends,  it  is 
degrading  alike  to  him  who  exercises  it  and  those  who  are  subjected 
to  its  influence.  It  is  quite  time  that  all  good  men  should  combine  to 
l>ut  down  demagogues  ami  dcmago^ism. 


HTSTOUICAL,  ANKCDOTICAT,,  ETC.  Ill 

veyances,  great  people — for  even  then  the  world 
was  divided  into  the  great  and  little,  as  it  is  now-^- 
traveled  in  their  own  carriages. 

About  this  time — it  must  have  been  in  the  sum 
mer  of  1804 — I  remember  Jerome  Bonaparte  coming 
np  to  Keeler's  tavern  with  a  coach  and  four,  attend 
ed  by  his  young  wife,  Miss  Patterson,  of  Baltimore. 
It  was  a  gay  establishment,  and  the  honeymoon  sat 
happily  on  the  tall,  sallow  stripling,  and  his  young 
bride.  You  must  remember  that  Napoleon  was 
then  filling  the  world  with  his  fame:  at  this  mo 
ment  his  feet  were  on  the  threshold  of  the  empire. 
The  arrival  of  his  brother  in  the  United  States  of 
course  made  a  sensation.  His  marriage,  his  move 
ments,  all  were  gossiped  over,  from  Maine  to  Georgia 
—not  Castine  to  California — these  being  the  extreme 
points  of  the  Union.  His  entrance  into  Eidgefield  pro 
duced  a  flutter  of  excitement,  even  there.  A  crowd 
gathered  around  Keeler's  tavern,  to  catch  a  sight  of 
the  strangers,  and  I  among  the  rest.  I  had  a  good, 
long  look  at  Jerome,  who  was  the  chief  object  of  in 
terest,  and  the  image  never  faded  from  my  recollec 
tion. 

Half  a  century  later,  I  was  one  evening  at  the  Tuil- 
cries,  amid  the  flush  and  the  fair  of  Louis  Napoleon's 
new  court.  Among  them  I  saw  an  old  man,  taller  than 
the  mass  around — his  nose  and  chin  almost  meeting 
in  contact,  while  his  toothless  gums  were  "munching 
the  airy  meal  of  dotage  and  decrepitude,"  I  was  irre- 


112  I.KTIKIW — m 

sistibly  chained  to  this  object,  as  if  a  spectre  had 
risen  up  through  the  floor,  and  stood  among  the 
garish  throng.  My  memory  traveled  back — back 
among  the  winding  labyrinths  of  years.  Suddenly 
I  found  the  clue:  the  stranger  was  Jerome  Bona 
parte  ! 

Ah,  what  a  history  lay  between  the  past  and  pres 
ent — a  lapse  of  nearly  fifty  years.  What  a  differ 
ence  between  him  then  and  now !  Then  he  was  a 
gay  and  gallant  bridegroom;  now,  though  he  had 
the  title  of  king,  he  was  throneless  and  scepterless — 
an  Invalid  Governor  of  Invalids — the  puppet  and 
pageant  of  an  adventurer,  whose  power  lay  in  the 
mere  magic  of  a  name.* 


*  Jerome  Bonaparte,  the  youngest  brother  of  Napoleon,  was  horn  in 
1784,  and  is  now  (1856)  72  years  old.  He  was  educated  for  the  nav:il 
service,  and  in  1801  had  the  command  of  the  corvette,  L'Epervier.  In 
this,  the  same  year,  he  sailed  with  the  expedition  to  St.  Domingo,  com- 
munded  by  his  brother-in-law,  Gen.  Leclerc.  In  March  following  he 
was  cent  to  France  with  dispatches,  but  speedily  returned.  Hostilities 
»oon  after  were  renewed  between  France  and  England,  and  he  sailed  on 
a  cruise  for  some  months,  finally  putting  into  the  port  of  New  York. 
Me  was  treated  with  marked  attention  in  the  principal  cities — New  York, 
Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  Baltimore.  In  the  latter  ho  became  attached 
to  Elizabeth  Patterson — daughter  of  an  eminent  merchant  there — and 
distinguished  for  her  beauty  and  accomplishments.  In  December,  1803, 
they  were  married  with  due  ceremony  by  John  Carroll,  the  Catholic 
Bishop  of  Baltimore,  in  the  presence  of  several  persons  of  high  dis 
tinction.  He  remained  about  a  year  in  America,  and  in  the  spring  of 
18<»5  he  sailed  with  his  wife  for  Europe.  Napoleon  disapproved  of  the 
match,  and  on  the  arrival  of  the  vessel  at  the  Texel,  it  was  found  that 
orders  had  been  left  with  the  authorities  not  to  permit  Jerome's  wife  to 
l«nd.  She  accordingly  sailed  for  England,  and  taking  up  her  residence 
in  the  vicinity  of  London,  gave  birth  to  a  son,  July  7,  1805.  This  is  the 
present  Jerome  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  of  Baltimore. 

Napoleon,  who  had  now  become  emperor,  and  desired  to  use  his  broth- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  113 

About  this  time,  as  I  well  remember,  Oliver  Wol- 
cott  passed  through  our  village.  He  arrived  at  the 
tavern  late  on  Saturday  evening,  but  he  called  at  our 
house  in  the  morning,  his  family  being  connected 

ers  for  his  own  purposes,  set  himself  to  work  to  abrogate  the  marriage, 
and  applied  to  Pope  Pius  VII.  for  this  purpose.  That  prelate,  however, 
refused,  inasmuch  as  the  grounds  set  forth  for  such  a  measure  were  alto 
gether  fallacious.  Napoleon,  however,  who  was  wholly  unscrupulous, 
forced  his  brother  into  another  match,  August  12, 1807,  with  the  prin 
cess  Frederica  Catherina,  daughter  of  the  King  of  Wurtemburg.  A  few 
clays  after  he  was  proclaimed  King  of  Westphalia,  which  had  been  created 
into  a  kingdom  for  him.  He  remained  in  this  position  till  the  overthrow 
of  the  Bonapartes  in  1814.  After  this  he  lived  sometimes  in  Austria, 
sometimes  in  Italy,  and  finally  in  Paris.  He  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  Constitutional  Convention  of  1848,  and  was  afterwards  made  Gov 
ernor  of  the  Invalidcs.  When  Louis  Napoleon  became  emperor  in  1852, 
the  Palais  Royal  was  fitted  up  for  him,  and  he  now  resides  there — his 
eon,  Prince  Napoleon,  and  his  daughter  (formerly  married  to  the  Eus- 
sian  Prince  Demidoff,  but  divorced  some  ten  years  ago),  Princess  Ma- 
thilde,  also  having  their  apartments  there. 

Jerome  Bonaparte  has  very  moderate  abilities,  and  though  he  is  now 
considered  as  nominally  in  the  line  of  succession  after  the  present  em 
peror,  his  position  is  only  that  of  a  pageant,  and  even  this  is  derived 
solely  from  his  being  the  brother  of  Napoleon.  He  is  taller  by  some 
inches  than  was  the  emperor  :  he,  however,  has  the  bronze  complexion, 
and  something  of  the  black,  stealthy  eye,  broad  brow,  the  strong,  prom- 
iiient  chin,  the  oval  face,  and  the  cold,  stony  expression,  which  char 
acterized  his  renowned  brother. 

Mrs.  Patterson  has  not  followed  the  career  of  her  weak  and  unprinci 
pled  husband,  but  has  continned  to  respect  her  marriage  vow.  In  1824, 
being  in  Dublin,  I  was  informed  by  Lady  Morgan,  who  had  recently 
seen  her  in  Paris,  that  the  princess  Borghese  (Napoleon's  sister  Pauline) 
had  offered  to  Mrs.  Patterson  to  adopt  her  son,  and  make  him  heir  of 
her  immense  possessions,  if  he  would  come  to  Italy,  and  be  placed  under 
her  care  :  her  answer  was,  that  she  preferred  to  have  him  a  respectable 
citizen  of  the  United  States  to  any  position  wealth  or  power  could  give 
him  in  Europe.  She  doubtless  judged  well  and  wisely,  for  the  Princess 
Borghese  has  left  behind  her  a  most  detestable  reputation.  Jerome  Na 
poleon  Bonaparte,  of  Baltimore,  has  recently  been  to  Paris,  where  he 
has  been  well  received  by  his  father  and  the  emperor;  and  his  son,  ed 
ucated  at  West  Point,  is  a  captain  in  the  French  army  in  the  Crimea, 
and  has  just  been  decorated  with  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor 
(1856). 


114:  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

with  ours.  He  was  a  great  man  then  ;  for  not  only 
are  the  Wolcotts  traditionally  and  historically  a  dis 
tinguished  race  in  Connecticut,  but  he  had  recently 
been  a  member  of  Washington's  cabinet.  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  speak  of  him  more  particularly 
hereafter.  I  mention  him  now  only  for  the  pur 
pose  of  noting  his  deference  to  public  opinion,  char 
acteristic  of  the  eminent  men  of  that  day.  In  the 
morning  he  went  to  church,  but  immediately  after 
the  sermon,  he  had  his  horses  brought  up,  and  pro 
ceeded  on  his  way.  He,  however,  had  requested  my 
father  to  state  to  his.people,  at  the  opening  of  the 
afternoon  service,  that  he  was  traveling  on  public 
business,  and  though  he  regretted  it,  he  was  obliged 
to  continue  his  journey  on  the  Sabbath.  This  my 
father  did,  but  Deacon  Ol instead,  the  Jeremiah  of 
the  parish,  shook  his  white  locks,  and  lifted  up  his 
voice  against  such  a  desecration  of  the  Lord's  day. 
Some  years  after — as  I  remember — Lieutenant-gov 
ernor  Treadwell  arrived  at  Keeler's  tavern  on  Satur 
day  evening,  and  prepared  to  prosecute  his  journey 
the  next  morning,  his  daughter,  who  was  with  him, 
being  ill.  This  same  Deacon  Olmstead  called  upon 
him,  and  said,  "  Sir,  if  you  thus  set  the  example  of 
a  violation  of  the  Sabbath,  you  must  expect  to  get 
one  vote  less  at  the  next  election  !"  The  Governor 
was  so  much  struck  by  the  appearance  of  the  deacon 
— who  was  the  very  image  of  a  patriarch  or  a  prophet 
— that  he  deferred  his  departure  till  Monday. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  115 

Another  event  of  this  era  I  remember,  and  that 
is,  the  celebration  of  the  inauguration  of  Jefferson, 
March  4th,  A.  D.  1801.  At  this  period,  the  Demo 
cratic,  or,  as  it  was  then  called,  the  Kepublican  party, 
was  not  large  in  Connecticut,  yet  it  was  zealous  in 
proportion  to  its  insignificance.  The  men  of  wealth, 
the  professional  men — those  of  good  position  and  large 
influence  generally — throughout  the  State,  were  almost 
exclusively  federalists.  The  old  platform  of  religion 
and  politics  still  stood  strong,  although  agitated  and 
fretted  a  little  by  the  rising  tide  of  what  afterward 
swelled  into  a  flood,  under  the  captivating  name  of 
Toleration.  The  young  Hercules  in  Ridgefield  was 
in  his  cradle  when  Jefferson  was  made  President ;  but 
nevertheless,  he  used  his  lungs  lustily  upon  the  occa 
sion.  On  the  day  of  the  inauguration,  the  old  field- 
piece,  a  four-pounder,  which  had  been  stuck  muzzle 
down  as  a  horse-post  at  Keeler's  tavern,  since  the 
fight  of  1777,  was  dug  up,  swabbed,  and  fired  off 
sixteen  times,  that  being  the  number  of  States  then 
in  the  Union.  At  first  the  cannon  had  a  somewhat 
stifled  and  wheezing  tone,  but  this  soon,  grew  louder, 
and  at  last  the  hills  re-echoed  to  the  rejoicing  of  de 
mocracy  from  High  Ridge  to  West  Mountain.  This 
might  be  taken  as  prophetic,  for  the  voice  of  democ 
racy,  then  small  and  asthmatic,  like  this  old  field- 
piece,  soon  cleared  its  throat,  and  thundered  like 
Sinai,  giving  law  to  the  land. 

My  father  was  a  man  of  calm  and  liberal  temper, 


116  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

but  he  was  still  of  the  old  school,  believing  in  things 
as  they  were,  and  therefore  he  regarded  these  dem 
onstrations  with  a  certain  degree  of  horror.  But  no 
doubt  he  felt  increased  anxiety  from  the  fact  that 
several  of  the  members  of  his  congregation  partici 
pated  in  these  unseemly  orgies.  Among  these — who 
would  have  thought  it  ? — was  Jerry  Mead,  the  shoe 
maker,  once  itinerant,  but  now  settled  down,  and 
keeping  his  shop.  He  was  one  of  our  near  neigh 
bors,  and  the  sound  of  his  lapstone,  early  and  late, 
was  as  regular  as  the  tides.  His  son  Sammy  was  his 
apprentice,  and  having  a  turn  for  mirth  and  music, 
diverted  the  neighborhood  by  playing  popular  airs 
as  he  pounded  his  leather ;  but  Jerry  himself  was 
a  grave,  nay,  an  austere  person,  and  for  this  reason, 
as  well  as  others,  was  esteemed  a  respectability.  He 
was  a  man  of  plain,  strong  sense ;  he  went  regularly 
to  meeting ;  sent  his  children  to  school,  and  cut  their 
hair,  close  and  square,  according  to  the  creed.  It 
might  have  been  natural  enough  for  his  son  Sammy, 
who  was  given  to  the  earthly  vanities  of  music, 
dancing,  and  the  like,  to  have  turned  out  a  demo 
crat;  but  for  sour,  sober,  sensible  Jerry- -it  was  quite 
another  thing.  What  must  have  b?'.r/  my  father's 
concern  to  find  on  the  occasion  of  th/  aforesaid  cele 
bration  that  Jerry  Mead  had  joined  the  rabble,  and 
— in  a  moment  of  exaltation,  it  is  said — delivered  an 
oration  at  one  of  their  clubs!  This  might  have 
been  borne — for  Jerry  was  not  then  a  professor — but 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  117 

conceive  his  emotion  when  he  heard  that  Ensign  Kee- 
ler — the  butcher  and  bell-ringer — who  was  a  half-way 
coven  ant- member  of  the  church,  had  touched  off  the 
cannon  !  I  am  happy  to  believe  that  both  these  per 
sons  saw  the  error  of  their  ways,  and  died  old  feder 
alists,  as  well  as  church  members  in  full  communion 
— notwithstanding  these  dark  episodes;  but  for  the 
time,  their  conduct  seemed  to  shake  the  very  pillars 
of  the  state. 

It  is  difficult  for  the  present  generation  to  enter 
into  the  feelings  of  those  days.  We  who  are  now 
familiar  with  democracy,  can  hardly  comprehend  the 
odium  attached  to  it  in  the  age  to  which  I  refer,  espe 
cially  in  the  minds  of  the  sober  people  of  our  neigh 
borhood.  They  not  only  regarded  it  as  hostile  to 
good  government,  but  as  associated  with  infidelity  in 
religion,  radicalism  in  government,  and  licentious 
ness  in  society.  It  was  considered  a  sort  of  monster, 
born  of  Tom  Paine,*  the  French  Ee volution,  foreign 


*  The  French  Kevolution  reached  its  height  in  1793,  under  what  was 
called  the  Convention.  The  king  perished  on  the  scaffold  in  January 
of  that  year,  and  the  queen  and  the  other  members  of  the  royal  family 
soon  after.  Atheism  had  taken  the  place  of  religion,  and  government 
was  a  wholesale  system  of  murder.  All  that  was  good  in  society  seemed 
to  have  perished.  The  Eeign  of  Terror  was  established  under  Kobes- 
pierre  and  his  Jacobin  Associates  in  1794.  About  this  time  the  French 
Minister  Genet  came  to  the  United  States,  and  under  his  auspices, 
Democratic  Ulvbs,  modeled  after  those  in  France,  which  had  enabled  the 
Jacobins  to  get  possession  of  the  government  of  France,  were  organ 
ized  in  the  United  States.  Their  object  was  to  place  our  government 
in  the  hands  of  the  Jacobins  here.  This  was  the  beginning  of  democ 
racy  in  this  country. 

The  people  of  America,  grateful  to  France  for  her  assistance  iu  ob- 


118  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

renegadoes,  and  the  great  Father  of  Evil.  Mr.  Jeffer 
son,  the  founder  of  the  party,  had  been  in  France, 
and  was  supposed  by  his  political  opponents  to  have 
adopted  the  atheism  and  the  libertinism  of  the  rev 
olutionists.  His  personal  character  and  dangerous 

taining  our  Independence,  naturally  sympathized  with  that  nation  in  its 
attempts  to  establish  a  free  government.  They  therefore  looked  upon 
the  Revolution  there  with  favor,  amounting  at  the  outset  to  enthusiasm. 
When  Genet  arrived,  not  fully  appreciating  the  horrors  it  was  perpetra 
ting,  many  of  our  people  still  clung  to  it  with  hope,  if  not  with  confi 
dence.  Designing  men  saw  the  use  they  could  make  of  this  feeling, 
and  in  order  to  employ  it  for  the  purposes  of  seizing  upon  the  govern 
ment,  promoted  the  democratic  clubs,  and  sought  to  rouse  the  feelings 
of  the  masses  into  a  rage  resembling  that  which  was  deluging  Paris 
with  blood.  Some  of  these  leaders  were  Americans,  but  the  most  ac 
tive  were  foreigners,  many  of  them  adventurers,  and  men  of  desperate 
character.  One  of  the  most  prominent  was  Thomas  Paine,  whose  name 
is  now  synonymous  with  infamy.  He  was  a  fair  representative  of  de 
mocracy  at  this  period. 

Fortunately  for  our  country  and  for  mankind,  Washington  was  now 
President,  and  by  his  wisdom,  his  calmness,  and  his  force  of  character 
and  influence,  conducted  the  country  through  a  tempest  of  disorder 
which  threatened  to  overwhelm  it.  Thus,  a  second  time  was  he  the 
Saviour  of  his  country.  He  naturally  became  the  object  of  hatred  to 
the  democrats,  and  upon  him  all  the  vials  of  their  wrath  were  poured. 
Jefferson,  as  is  now  known,  encouraged,  employed,  and  paid  some  of 
these  defamers.  It  is  true  that  at  this  time  he  did  not  adopt  the  term 
democrat — nor  do  we  believe  he  shared  its  spirit  to  the  full  extent :  he 
preferred  the,  term  republican,  as  did  his  followers,  at  the  outset.  A  1- 
terward  they  adopted  the  term  democrat,  in  which  they  now  rejoica. 
Of  the  democratic  party,  Jefferson  was,  however,  the  efficient  promoter 
at  the  beginning,  and  may  be  considered  its  father  and  its  founder. 
From  these  facts,  it  will  be  seen  that  this  dread  of  him,  on  the  part  of  the 
staid,  conservative,  Puritan  people  of  New  England,  was  not  without 
good  foundation.  See  HUdreWs  History  of  the  United  States,  second 
series,  vol.  i.  pp.  424  and  455 ;  also  Griswold^s  Republican  Guurt,  p.  290. 

As  Jefferson  was  the  leader  of  the  democratic  party,  so  Washington 
was  the  head  of  the  federalists.  Since  that  period  the  terms  democrat 
and  federalist  have  undergone  many  changes  of  signification,  and  have 
l>een  u?ed  for  various  purposes.  Democracy  is  still  the  watchword  of 
party,  but  the  term  federalism  is  merely  historical,  that  of  whig  having 
been  adopted  by  the  conservatives. 


HISTORICAL,   ANKCDOTICAL,  KTC.  119 

political  proclivities,  as  I  have  said,  were  not  then  well 
understood.  The  greatest  fear  of  him,  at  this  time, 
was  as  to  his  moral,  religious,  and  social  influence. 
It  was  supposed  that  his  worshipers  could  not  be  bet 
ter  than  their  idol,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  the 
democracy  of  New  England  in  its  beginning  raked 
up  and  absorbed  the  chaff  of  society.  It  is  due  to  the 
truth  of  history  to  state  that  men  of  blemished  reputa 
tions,  tipplers,  persons  of  irregular  tempers,  odd  peo 
ple,  those  who  were  constitutionally  upsetters,*  de- 

*  I  have  just  stated  the  historical  origin  of  the  two  great  parties  in 
the  United  States.  These,  though  taking  their  rise  from  passing  events, 
had  a  deeper  root.  In  all  countries,  where  there  is  liberty  of  speech 
and  print,  there  will  be  two  parties — the  Conservatives  and  the  Radicals. 
These  differences  arise  mainly  from  the  constitutions  of  men  and  their 
varying  conditions  in  society.  Some  are  born  Destructives  and  some 
Constfuctives.  The  former  constitute  the  nucleus  of  the  radical  party. 
They  are  without  property,  and  therefore  make  war  on  property,  and 
those  who  possess  it.  One  of  this  class,  a  born  radical,  usually  passes 
his  whole  life  in  this  condition,  for  in  his  nature  he  is  opposed  to  accu 
mulation.  He  is  characterized  by  the  parable  of  the  rolling-stone  which 
gathers  no  moss.  The  mass  of  the  radical  party  in  all  countries  is  made 
up  of  such  persons.  The  born  constructive,  on  the  contrary,  is  for  law 
and  order  by  instinct  as  well  as  reflection.  He  is  industrious,  frnjral, 
acquisitive :  he  accumulates  property,  he  constructs  a  fortune,  and  be 
comes  in  all  things  conservative. 

From  these  two  sources,  the  great  parties  in  the  United  States  derive 
their  chief  recruits.  Most  men  of  intelligence  and  reflection,  however,  are 
conservatives  in  their  convictions,  because  it  is  by  the  maintenance  ot 
order  alone  that  life  and  liberty  can  be  preserved.  But  unhappily  intel 
ligent  men  are  often  destitute  of  principle ;  they  sometimes  desire  to 
wield  political  power,  and  as  this  is  frequently  in  the  hands  of  the  radi 
cals,  they  piny  the  demagogue,  and  flatter  the  masses,  to  obtain  their 
votes.  Ex-president  John  Adams  said,  with  great  truth,  that  when  a 
man,  born  in  the  circle  of  aristocracy,  undertakes  to  play  the  demagogue, 
he  generally  does  it  with  more  art  and  success  than  any  other  person, 
When  the  demagogue  has  acquired  power — when  he  has  attained  the 
object  of  his  ambition— he  generally  takes  off  the  mask,  and  as  he  can 
now  afford  it  he  is  henceforth  a  conservative.  This  is  the  history  of 


120  I.ETTKK8 — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

structives,  comeouters,  flocked  spontaneously,  as  if  by 
a  kind  of  instinct,  to  the  banner  of  democracy,  about 
the  period  of  Jefferson's  first  election,  and  constituted, 
for  a  considerable  period  afterward,  the  staple  of  the 
party.  In  due  time  and  when  they  had  increased 
in  numbers,  they  gradually  acquired  respectable  lead 
ers.  General  King,  who  became  the  head  of  the  party 
in  Kidgefield,  was  a  high-minded,  intelligent  man; 
and  so  it  happened  in  other  places.  But  still,  the 
mass  in  the  outset  were  such  as  I  have  described. 

It  may  be  conjectured,  then,  with  what  concern  a 
sincere  and  earnest  pastor — like  my  father — saw  some 

most  demagogues  in  this  country.  Hence  it  is  that  demagogism  has  not 
had  the  fatal  consequences  that  might  have  been  anticipated.  It  has 
indeed  defiled  our  politics,  it  has  degraded  our  manners,  and  should  be 
spurned  by  every  manly  bosom  ;  but  yet  it  has  stopped  short  of  the  de 
struction  of  our  government  and  our  institutions. 

Demagogism  has  prevailed  to  such  an  extent  among  us,  that  a  very 
large  share  of  the  political  offices  are  now  held  by  demagogues.  It 
was  otherwise  at  the  outset  of  our  government.  The  people  then 
cast  about  and  selected  their  best  men  :  now  party  managers  take  the 
matter  into  their  own  hands,  and  often  select  the  worst  men  for  offi 
cers,  as  none  but  persons  who  can  be  bought  and  sold  would  answer 
their  purpose.  Thus,  office  has  sunk  in  respectability.  We  have  no 
ionger  Washingtons,  Ellsworths,  Shermans— men  of  honor  to  the  heart's 
core — at  the  head  of  affairs,  and  stamping  our  manners  and  our  institu 
tions  with  virtue  and  dignity.  Office  is  so  low  that  our  first-class  men 
shun  it.  We  have  too  many  inferior  men  in  high  places — who,  in  de 
grading  their  stations,  degrade  the  country.  This  is  wrong :  it  is  a  sin 
against  reason,  common  sense,  patriotism,  and  prudence.  Neverthe 
less,  there  is,  despite  these  adverse  circumstances,  spread  over  this  vast 
country  a  sober,  solid,  and  virtuous  majority — some  in  one  party  and 
some  in  another — who  will  not  permit  these-evils  to  destroy  our  institu 
tions.  Whoever  may  rule,  there  is  and  will  be  a  preponderance  of  con 
servatism,  and  this,  we  trust,  will  save  us.  Democracy  may  rave — 
radicalism  may  foam  at  the  mouth,  and  these  may  get  the  votes  and 
appropriate  the  spoils,  but  still  law  and  order  will  prevail,  through  tho 
supremacy  of  reason,  rectitude,  and  religion. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECixmOAL,    ETC.  1^1 

of  the  members  of  his  own  flock,  including  others 
whom  he  hoped  to  gather  into  the  fold,  kneeling  down 
to  this  Moloch  of  democracy.  •  Time  passed  on,  and 
less  than  twenty  years  after,  federalism  was  overturn 
ed,  and  democracy  triumphed  in  Connecticut.  The 
old  time-honored  parchment  of  Charles  II.,  supposed 
to  be  a  sort  of  eleventh  commandment,  and  firm  as 
Plymouth  Eock,  passed  away,  like  a  scroll,  and  a  new 
constitution  was  established.  "What  bodings,  what 
anxieties,  were  experienced  during  this  long  agony 
of  Conservatism !  And  yet  society  survived.  The  old 
landmarks,  though  shaken,  still  remained,  and  some  of 
them  even  derived  confidence,  if  not  firmness,  from 
the  agitation.  Nay,  strange  to  say,  in  the  succeeding 
generation,  democracy  cast  its  slough,  put  on  clean 
linen,  and  affected  respectability.  Many  of  the  sons 
of  the  democrats  of  1800,  and  conceived  in  its  image, 
were  the  leaders  of  federalism  in  1825.  Indeed,  the 
word  democracy,  which  was  first  used  as  synonymous 
with  Jacobinism,  has  essentially  changed  its  significa 
tion,  and  now  means  little  more  than  the  progressive 
party,  in  opposition  to  the  conservative  party. 

Such  is  the  cycle  of  politics,  such  are  the  oscilla 
tions  of  progress  and  conservatism,  which,  in  point 
of  fact,  regulate  the  great  march  of  society,  and  spur 
it  on  to  constant  advances  in  civilization.  These  two 
forces,  if  not  indispensable  to  liberty,  are  always  at 
tendant  upon  it;  one  is  centripetal,  the  other  cen 
trifugal,  and  are  always  in  conflict  and  contending 

VOL.  I.— 6 


122  LKTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

against  each  other.  The  domination  of  either  would 
doubtless  lead  to  abuses ;  but  the  spirit  of  both, 
duly  tempered,  combmes  to  work  out  the  good  of  all. 
One  thing  is  settled  in  this  country — though  democ 
racy  may  seem  to  rule  ;  though  it  may  carry  the  elec 
tions  and  engross  the  offices,  it  is  still  obliged  to  bow 
to  conservatism,  which  insists  upon  the  supremacy  of 
law  and  order.  Democracy  may  be  a  good  ladder  on 
which  to  climb  into  power,  but  it  is  then  generally 
thrown  down,  with  contempt,  by  those  who  have  ac 
complished  their  object,  and  have  no  further  use  for  it. 
I  must  here  note,  in  due  chronological  order,  an 
event  which  caused  no  little  public  emotion.  One  of 
the  first,  and  perhaps  the  most  conspicuous  victim 
of  proscription  in  Jefferson's  time,  was  my  uncle, 
Elizur  Goodrich,  Collector  of  the  port  of  New  Ha 
ven — at  that  time  an  office  of  some  importance,  as 
New  Haven  had  then  a  large  West  India  trade.  The 
story  is  thus  told  by  the  historian : 

"  One  of  the  most  noticeable  of  these  cases  was  the  removal  of 
Elizur  Goodrich,  lately  a  representative  in  Congress  from  Con 
necticut,  who  had  resigned  his  seat  to  accept  the  office  of  Col 
lector  of  New  Haven.  In  his  place  was  appointed  Samuel  Bish 
op,  a  respectable  old  man  of  seventy-seven,  but  so  nearly  blind, 
that  he  could  hardly  write  his  name,  and  with  no  particular 
qualifications  for  the  office,  or  claim  to  it,  except  being  the  fa 
ther  of  one  Abraham  Bishop,  a  young  democrat,  a  lawyer  with 
out  practice,  for  whom  the  appointment  was  originally  intended. 
The  claims  of  the  younger  Bishop  consisted  in  two  political 
orations,  which  he  had  recently  delivered ;  one  of  them  by  a 
sort  of  surprise  before  a  literary  society  of  Yale  College,  an  occa- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  123 

si  >n  upon  which  all  the  dignitaries  of  the  State  were  collected. 
This  was  a  vehement  and  flippant,  bnt  excessively  shallow  dec 
lamation,  yet  suited  to  alarm  the  popular  mind,  the  burden  of 
it  being  that  by  commercial,  military,  clerical,  and  legal  delu 
sions,  a  monarchy*  and  aristocracy  were  just  on  the  point  of  being 
saddled  on  the  country.  To  this  oration,  already  in  print  be 
fore  it  had  been  delivered,  and  which  was  at  once  distributed  as 
an  electioneering  document — the  choice  of  presidential  electors 
being  then  about  to  take  place — NV>ah  Webster  had  immediately 
published  a  cutting  reply,  entitled  '  A  Rod  for  the  Fool's  Back.' 
The  younger  Bishop's  second  oration,  delivered  at  a  festival  to 
celebrate  the  republican  triumph,  was  a  parallel,  drawn  at  great 
length,  between  Jefferson  and  Jesus  Christ — '  The  illustrious 
chief  who,  once  insulted,  now  presides  over  the  Union,  and  Him 
who,  once  insulted,  now  presides  over  the  universe.'  " — Hil- 
dretK's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  ii.  p.  429. 

For  several  reasons,  this  event  caused  great  excite 
ment.  The  election  of  Jefferson  had  been  made  by 
the  House  of  Representatives,  after  a  severe  conflict, 
which  lasted  several  weeks.  The  choice  was  finally 
effected  by  Mr.  Jefferson's  giving  pledges  to  James 
A.  Bayard,  of  Delaware,  and  some  other  federal  mem 
bers,  who  consequently  withdrew  their  opposition.  He 
agreed,  if  elected,  to  follow  certain  principles  .of  con 
duct,  and  stipulated,  that  while,  of  course,  he  would  fill 

*  The  great  alarm-cry  of  the  leaders  of  democracy  at  this  period  was, 
that  the  federalists  sympathized  with  England  and  hated  France ;  that 
hence  it  was  clear  they  were  monarchists  at  heart,  and  designed  to  over 
throw  our  republic,  and  establish  a  monarchy  in  its  place.  Washington 
was  openly  and  repeatedly  charged  as  a  traitor,  entertaining  these  views 
and  purposes.  It  is  now  known,  as  already  intimated,  that  Jeffersoc. 
encouraged  and  even  paid  some  of  the  editors  who  made  these  charges. 
Bee  Httdreth,  vol.  ii.  p.  454,  <fec.  Second  Series. 


124:      •  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

important  confidential  offices — as  those  of  the  secreta 
ries  of  state  and  treasury,  foreign  ministers,  &c.,  with 
persons  of  his  own  political  creed — no  removals  from 
inferior  stations,  such  as  "collectors  of  ports"  &c.,  in 
cluding  offices  of  mere  detail,  generally,  should  take 
place  on  the  ground  of  opinion.  The  removal  above 
alluded  to,  being  in  direct  violation  of  this  pledge, 
caused  great  indignation. 

Hitherto  removals  of  even  inferior  officers  had  never 
been  made  because  their  opinions  did  not  suit  the 
President,  and  hence  this  instance  created  general 
surprise  as  well  as  alarm,  especially  when  the  cir 
cumstances  and  the  motives  for  the  measure  were 
taken  into  consideration.  The  principal  citizens  of 
New  Haven,  particularly  the  merchants,  felt  this  as 
a  severe  blow,  and  accordingly  addressed  to  the  Pres 
ident  a  respectful  but  earnest  remonstrance  against 
the  change  that  had  taken  place.  Mr.  Jefferson  re 
plied  in  a  letter,  which  has  become  celebrated,  as  it 
not  only  displayed,  in  a  remarkable  degree,  his  rhe 
torical  skill  and  political  tact,  but  it  may  be  said 
to  have  settled,  as  a  matter  of  principle  in  our  gov 
ernment,  that  it  is  within  the  province  of  the  Presi 
dent  to  make  removals  from  office  on  mere  party 
grounds.  It  is  true  that  this  was  not  largely  prac 
ticed  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  for  public  opinion  seemed  not 
then  to  be  prepared  for  it ;  but  the  example  he  set, 
and  the  skill  he  manifested  in  defending  this  fatal 
doctrine,  afterward  resulted  in  an  open  declaration 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  125 

by  his  party,  that  "  to  the  victors  belong  the  spoils11 — 
and  hence  the  whole  arena  of  politics  has  been  de 
graded  by  infusing  into  it  the  selfishness  and  vio 
lence  which  characterize  a  battle,  where  "  beauty  and 
booty"  is  the  watchword. 

I  may  not  find  a  better  place  than  this  for  an  anec 
dote,  which  shows  the  tendency  of  political  storms, 
like  those  of  nature — by  sea  and  by  land — to  re 
volve  in  a  circle.  This,  Abraham  Bishop,  just  men 
tioned,  the  son  of  Collector  Bishop,  grew  up  a  demo 
crat,  and  became  an  able  and  skillful  stump  orator. 
He  is  said  to  have  originated  the  electioneering  apo 
thegm — "  one  doubt  loses  ten  votes !"  For  several 
years  he  was  the  Boanerges  of  the  party  in  Connecti 
cut,  and  always  went  on  a  circuit  to  stir  up  the  democ 
racy  just  previous  to  the  elections.  At  length  he  was 
appointed  Collector  of  the  port  of  New  Haven,  with 
some  five  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Well :  again, 
when  an  election  was  approaching,  he  was  desired 
by  the  leaders  of  the  party  to  go  forth  and  wake 
up  the  democracy  by  a  round  of  speeches.  "  No, 
no,"  said  the  Collector  with  $5000  a  year  :  "  I  think 
we  have  quite  democracy  enough,  now !"  A  few 
years  later,  Mr.  Bishop  was  in  the  ranks  of  the 
whigs  or  federalists,  and  died  much  respected  as  a 
man  of  conservative  politics,  morals,  and  manners ! 

In  short,  my  dear  C  . . . .,  though  I  respect  a  quiet, 
conscientious  democrat,  as  much  as  I  do  any  other  man 
— still,  when  I  see  a  noisy  politician  crying  out,  "  The 


126  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

democracy !  ho,  the  democracy  !" — I  consider  it  pretty 
certain — judging  from  long  experience  and  observa 
tion — that,  according  to  the  proverb,  "Somebody  has 
an  axe  to  grind,"  and  desires  to  wheedle  his  dupes 
into  turning  the  grindstone,  gratis. 


LETTER  X, 

How  People  traveled  Fifty  Years  ago — Timothy  Pickering — Manners 
along  the  Road — Jefferson  and  Shoe-strings — Mr.  Priest  and  Mr.  Dem 
ocrat — Barbers  at  Washington — James  Madison  and  the  Queue —  Win 
ter  and  Sleighing — Comfortable  Meeting '-houses — The  Stove  Party  and 
the  Anti-Stove  Party — The  first  Chaise  built  in,  Ridgefield — The  Be 
ginning  of  the  Carriage  Manufacture  there. 

MY    DEAR    C****** 

I  have  incidentally  remarked  that  about  the  be 
ginning  of  the  present  century  great  people  traveled,  in 
our  quarter,  not  in  cars,  or  steamers,  or  even  in  stage 
coaches,  to  any  considerable  extent,  but  in  their  own 
carriages.  The  principal  travel  was  on  horseback. 
Many  of  the  members  of  Congress  came  to  Wash 
ington  in  this  way.  I  have  a  dim  recollection  of  see 
ing  one  day,  when  I  was  trudging  along  to  school,  a 
tall,  pale,  gaunt  man,  approaching  on  horseback  with 
his  plump  saddlebags  behind  him.  I  looked  at  him 
keenly,  and  made  my  obeisance  as  in  duty  bound. 
He  lifted  his  hat,  and  bowed  in  return.  By  a  quick 
instinct,  I  set  him  down  as  a  man  of  mark.  In  the 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  127 

evening,  Lieutenant  Smith  came  to  our  house  and 
told  us  that  Timothy  Pickering  had  passed  through 
the  town !  He  had  seen  him  and  talked  with  him, 
and  was  vastly  distended  with  the  portentous  news 
thereby  acquired — including  the  rise  and  fall  of  em 
pires  for  ages  to  come — and  all  of  which  he  duly 
unfolded  to  our  family  circle. 

Before  I  proceed,  let  me  note,  in  passing,  a  point 
of  manners  then  universal,  but  which  has  now  nearly 
faded  away.  When  travelers  met  with  people  on 
the  highway,  both  saluted  one  another  with  a  certain 
dignified  and  formal  courtesy.  All  children  were 
regularly  taught  at  school  to  "  make  their  manners" 
to  strangers ;  the  boys  to  bow  and  the  girls  to  courte 
sy.  It  was  something  different  from  the  frank,  fa 
miliar  "How  are  you,  stranger?"  of  the  Far  West; 
something  different  from  the  "  bon  jour,  serviteur"  of 
the  Alps.  These  no  doubt  arise  from  the  natural 
sociability  of  man,  and  are  stimulated  into  a  fash 
ion  and  a  tradition  by  the  sparseness  of  the  pop 
ulation,  for  sociability  is  greatly  promoted  by  isola 
tion.  Our  salute  was  more  measured  and  formal, 
respect  to  age  and  authority  being  evidently  an  ele 
ment  of  this  homage,  which  was  sedulously  taught 
to  the  young.  Its  origin  I  cannot  tell ;  perhaps  it 
carne  from  England  with  the  Puritans,  and  was  a 
vestige  of  that  kindly  ceremony  which  always  marks 
the  intercourse  of  the  upper  and  lower  classes  in  a 
country  where  the  patrician  and  plebeian  are  estob- 


LKTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

lished  by  law  and  public  sentiment.  Perhaps' it  Be 
spoke  also  something  of  that  reign  of  authority,  which 
then  regulated  society  in  the  affairs  of  Church  and 
State. 

But  however  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  for 
children  to  salute  travelers  was,  in  my  early  days,  as 
well  a  duty  as  a  decency.  A  child  who  did  not 
"  make  his  manners"  to  a  stranger  on  the  high-road, 
was  deemed  a  low  fellow  ;  a  stranger  who  refused  to 
acknowledge  this  civility  was  esteemed  a  sans  cu- 
lotte — perhaps  a  favorer  of  Jacobinism.  It  may  be 
remarked  that  men  of  the  highest  rank  in  those 
days  were  particular  in  these  attentions  to  children ; 
indeed,  I  may  say  that  the  emphasis  of  a  stranger's 
courtesy  was  generally  the  measure  of  his  station. 
I  can  testify  that  in  my  own  case,  the  effect  of  this 
was  to  impress  me  strongly  with  the  amiability  of 
rank  which  thus  condescended  to  notice  a  child ;  at 
the  same  time,  it  encouraged  children,  in.  some  sort, 
to  imitate  high  and  honorable  examples. 

The  decadence  of  this  good  old  highway  politeness 
in  Connecticut,  began  soon  after  the  period  of  which 
I  now  write.  Remember  that  this  was  long  before 
the  era  of  railroads  and  lightning  telegraphs.  Of 
course  it  would  be  idle  for  boys  and  girls  now-a-days 
to  undertake  to  bow  and  courtesy  to  locomotives:  in 
such  a  process  they  would  run  the  risk  of  wringing 
their  necks  and  tripping  up  their  heels.  But  forty 
years .  ago  people  plodded  along  at  the  rate  of  twc 


HISTORICAL,  AN ECDOTICAL,  ETC.  ^     J  29 

to  fuur  miles  the  hour.  Everybody  had  time  then  to 
be  polite.  It  is  all  changed  :  aspiring  young  Amer 
ica  was  then  slow,  as  it  is  fast  now.  Since  every 
thing  goes  by  steam  and  electricity,  tall  walking  and 
tall  talking  are  the  vogue.  It  is  easy  to  comprehend 
how  this  comes  about ;  but  it  was  even  before  the 
advent  of  this  age  of  agony,  that  the  good  old  coun 
try  custom  on  the  part  of  the  rising  generation,  to 
salute  strangers  along  the  road,  had  waned.  It  first 
subsided  into  a  vulgar  nod,  half  ashamed  and  half 
impudent,  and  then,  like  the  pendulum  of  a  dying- 
clock,  totally  ceased. 

Thus  passed  away  the  age  of  politeness.  For 
some  reason  or  other,  it  seems  to  have  gone  down 
with  old  Hartford  Convention  Federalism.  The 
change  in  manners  had  no  doubt  been  silently  going 
on  for  some  time ;  but  it  was  not  distinctly  visible 
to  common  eyes  till  the  establishment  of  the  new 
constitution.  Powder  and  queues,  cocked-hats  and 
broad-brims,  white-top  boots,  breeches,  and  shoe- 
buckles — signs  and  symbols  of  a  generation,  a  few 
examples  of  which  still  lingered  among  us — finally 
departed  with  the  Charter  of  Charles  II.,  while  with 
the  new  constitution  of  1818,  short  hair,  pantaloons, 
and  round  hats  with  narrow  brims,  became  the  estab 
lished  costume  of  men  of  all  classes. 

Jefferson  was,  or  affected  to  be,  very  simple  in  his 
taste,  dress,  and  manners.  He  wore  pantaloons,  in 
stead  of  breeches,  and  adopted  leather  shoe  strings  in 

6* 


130  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

place  of  buckles.  These  and  other  similar  things 
were  praised  by  his  admirers  as  signs  of  his  democ 
racy:  a  certain  coarseness  of  manners,  supposed  to 
be  encouraged  by  the  leaders,  passed  to  the  led. 
Rudeness  and  irreverence  were  at  length  deemed 
democratic,  if  not  democracy.*  An  anecdote,  which 
ii-  strictly  historical,  will  illustrate  this. 

About  this  time,  there  was  in  the  eastern  part  of 
Connecticut  a  clergyman  by  the  name  of  Cleveland, 
who  was  noted  for  his  wit.  One  summer  day,  as  he 
was  riding  along,  he  came  to  a  brook.  Here  he 
paused  to  let  his  horse  drink.  Just  then,  a  stranger 
rode  into  the  stream  from  the  opposite  direction, 
and  his  horse  began  to  drink  also.  The  animals  ap 
proached,  as  is  their  wont  under  such  circumstances, 
and  thus  brought  the  two  men  face  to  face. 

"  How  are  you,  priest  ?"  said  the  stranger. 

"  How  are  you,  democrat?"  said  the  parson. 
.  u  How  do  you  know  I  am  a  democrat?"  said  one. 

"  How  do  you  know  I  am  a  priest?"  said  the  other. 

;<  I  know  you  to  be  a  priest  by  your  dress,"  said 
the  stranger. 

"  I  know  you  to  be  a  democrat  by  your  address," 
said  the  parson. 

*  Jefferson  carried  his  plebeiaimm  so  far  as  to  put  an  end  to  the  social 
gatherings  of  the  people  at  the  President's  house,  called  levees.  Madi 
son,  who  was  a  better — that  is,  a  wiser  and  truer — democrat,  saw  that 
these  meetings  tended  at  once  to  elevation  of  manners  and  equalization 
of  social  position,  and  restored  them.  Mrs.  Madison's  levees  were  not 
less  brilliant  than  those  of  lady  Washington,  though  they  were  less  dig- 
niticd  and  retined. 


"How  ARE  YOU,  PRIEST?"     "How  ARE  YOU,  DEMOCRAT?"    Vol.  1,  p.  130. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  131 

There  is  an  anecdote  of  a  somewhat  later  date, 
which  illustrates  the  same  point.  In  Washington's 
time,  the  manners  of  the  country,  among  the  leading 
classes,  assumed  a  good  deal  of  stateliness,  and  this 
was  perpetuated  by  the  example  of  this  great  man — 
great  alike  from  his  office,  his  character,  and  his 
history.  This  was  made  the  foundation  of  the  charge 
against  him — so  basely  urged — that  he  was  at  heart  a 
monarchist.  It  was  but  natural  that  Jefferson  should 
appear  to  be,  in  all  things,  his  opposite.  Under  his 
administration,  as  I  have  just  said,  a  great  change  was 
effected  in  external  manners.  As  was  reasonable,  the 
democrats  followed  the  example  of  their  leader,  now 
chief  magistrate  of  the  nation,  while  among  the  old 
federalists  there  still  lingered  vestiges  of  the  waning 
costume  of  other  days. 

A  very  keen  observer,  then  and  long  afterward  a 
senator  of  the  United  States,  once  told  me  that  at 
this  period,  all  the  barbers  of  Washington  were  fed 
eralists,  and  he  imputed  it  to  the  fact  that  the  leaders 
of  that  party  in  Congress  wore  powder  and  long 
queues,  and  of  course  had  them  dressed  every  day 
by  the  barber.  The  democrats,  on  the  contrary,  wore 
short  hair,  or,  at  least,  small  queues,  tied  up  carelessly 
with  a  libbon,  and  therefore  gave  little  encouragement 
to  the  tonsorial  art.  One  day,  as  the  narrator  told 
me.  while  he  was  being  shaved  by  the  leading  barber 
of  the  city — who  was  of  course  a  federalist — the  lat 
ter  suddenly  and  vehemently  burst  out  against  the 


1  :>2  J.KTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

nomination  of  Madison  for  the  presidency  by  the 
democratic  party,  which  had  that  morning  been  an 
nounced. 

"  Dear  me !"  said  the  barber,  "  surely  this  coun 
try  is  doomed  to  disgrace  and  shame.  What  Presi 
dents  we  might  have,  sir !  Just  look  at  Daggett  of 
Connecticut  and  Stockton  of  New  Jersey !  What 
queues  they  have  got,  sir — as  big  as  your  wrist,  and 
powdered  every  day,  sir,  like  real  gentlemen  as  they 
are.  Such  men,  sir,  would  confer  dignity  upon  the 
chief  magistracy ;  but  this  little  Jim  Madison,  with  a 
queue  no  bigger  than  a  pipe-stem  !  Sir,  it  is  enough 
to  make  a  man  forswear  his  country  !" 

But  I  must  return  to  locomotion — not  railing  but 
wheeling.  In  Ridgefield,  in  the  year  1800,  there 
was  but  a  single  chaise,  and  that  belonged  to  Col 
onel  Bradley,  one  of  the  principal  citizens  of  the 
place.  It  was  without  a  top,  and  had  a  pair  ol 
wide-spreading,  asinine  ears.  That  multitudinous 
generation  of  traveling  vehicles,  so  universal  and  so 
convenient  now — such  as  top-wagons,  four-wheeled 
chaises,  tilburies,  dearborns,  &c.,  was  totally  un 
known.  Even  if  these  things  had  been  invented, 
the  roads  would  scarcely  have  permitted  the  use  of 
them.  Physicians  who  had  occasion  to  go  from  town 
to  town,  went  on  horseback ;  all  clergymen,  except 
perhaps  Bishop  Seabury,  who  rode  in  a  coach,  trav 
eled  in  the  same  way.  My  father's  people,  who  lived 
at  a  distance,  came  to  church  on  horseback — their 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    KIT. 

wives  and  daughters  being  seated  on  pillions  behind 
them.  In  a  few  cases — as  in  spring-time,  when  the 
mud  had  no  soundings — the  farm  wagon  was  used 
for  transporting  the  family. 

In  winter  it  was  otherwise,  for  we  had  three  or  four 
months  of  sleighing.  Then  the  whole  country  was 
a  railroad,  and  gay  times  we  had.  Oh !  those  beau 
tiful  winters,  which  would  drive  me  shivering  to  the 
fireside  now :  what  vivid  delight  have  I  had  in 
your  slidings  and  skatings,  your  sleddings  and  sleigh 
ings  !  One  thing  strikes  me  now  with  wonder,  and 
that  is,  the  general  indifference,  in  those  days,  to  the 
intensity  of  winter.  No  doubt,  as  I  have  said  before, 
the  climate  was  then  more  severe  ;  but  be  that  as  it 
may,  people  seemed  to  suffer  less  from  it  than  at  the 
present  day.  Nobody  thought  of  staying  at  home 
from  church  because  of  the  extremity  of  the  weather. 
We  had  no  thermometers,  it  is  true,  to  frighten  us 
with  the  revelation  that  it  was  twenty-five  degrees 
below  zero.  The  habits  of  the  people  were  simple 
and  hardy,  and  there  were  few  defences  against  the 
assaults  of  the  seasons.  The  houses  were  not  tight ; 
we  had  no  stoves,  no  Lehigh  or  Lackawanna  coal ; 
yet  we  lived,  and  comfortably  too  ;  nay,  we  even 
changed  burly  winter  into  a  season  of  enjoyment. 

Let  me  tell  you  a  story,  by  the  way,  upon  the 
meeting-houses  of  those  days.  They  were  of  wood, 
and  slenderly  built,  of  course  admitting  somewhat 
freely  the  blasts  of  the  seasons.  In  the  severe  win- 


184:  LETTEE8 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ter  days,  we  only  mitigated  the  temperature  by  foot- 
stoves  ;  but  these  were  deemed  effeminate  luxuries, 
suited  to  women  and  children.  What  would  have 
been  thought  of  Deacon  Olmstead  and  Granther  Bald 
win,  had  they  yielded  to  the  weakness  of  a  foot-stove  ! 
The  age  of  comfortable  meeting-houses  and 
churches,  in  county  towns,  was  subsequent  to  this, 
some  twenty  or  thirty  years.  All  improvement  is 
gradual,  and  frequently  advances  only  by  conflict 
with  prejudice,  and  victory  over  opposition.  In  a 
certain  county  town  within  my  knowledge,  the  intro 
duction  of  stoves  into  the  meeting-house,  about  the 
year  1830,  threatened  to  overturn  society.  The  inci 
dent  may  be  worth  detailing,  for  trifles  often  throw 
light  upon  important  subjects. 

In  this  case,  the  metropolis,  which  we  will  call 
H . . .,  had  adopted  stoves  in  the  churches,  and  nat 
urally  enough  some  people  of  the  neighboring  town 
of  E  ....  set  about  introducing  this  custom  into  the 
meeting-house  in  their  own  village.  Now,  the  two 
master-spirits  of  society — the  Demon  of  Progress  and 
the  Angel  of  Conservatism — somehow  or  other  had 
got  into  the  place,  and  as  soon  as  this  reform  was  sug 
gested,  they  began  to  wrestle  with  the  people,  until 
at  last  the -church  and  society  were  divided  into  two 
violent  factions — the  Stove  Party  and  the  Anti-stove 
Party.  At  the  head  of  the  first  was  Mrs.  Deacon 
K . . . .  and  at  the  head  of  the  latter  was  Mrs.  Deacon 
I* The  battle  raged  portentously,  very  much 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  185 

like  the  renowned  tempest  in  a  teapot.  Society  was 
indeed  lashed  into  a  foam.  The  minister,  between 
the  contending  factions,  scarcely  dared  to  say  his  soul 
was  his  own.  He  could  scarcely  find  a  text  from 
"  Genesis  to  Jude,"  that  might  not  commit  him  on  one 
side  or  the  other.  The  strife — of  course — ran  into 
politics,  and  the  representative  to  the  assembly  got 
in  by  a  happy  knack  at  dodging  the  question  in  such 
wise  as  to  be  claimed  by  both  parties. 

Finally,  the  progressionists  prevailed — the  stove 
party  triumphed,  and  the  stoves  were  accordingly 
installed.  Great  was  the  humiliation  of  the  anti- 
stoveites ;  nevertheless,  they  concluded  to  be  submis 
sive  to  the  dispensations  of  Providence.  On  the 
Sabbath  succeeding  the  installation  of  the  stoves,  Mrs. 
Deacon  P  . . . .,  instead  of  staying  away,  did  as  she 
ought,  and  went  to  church.  As  she  moved  up  the 
broad  aisle,  it  was  remarked  that  she  looked  pale  but 
calm,  as  a  martyr  should,  conscious  of  injury,  yet 
struggling  to  forgive.  Nevertheless,  when  the  min 
ister  named  his  text — Eomans  xii.  20 — and  spoke 
about  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  the  head — she  slid 
from  her  seat,  and  subsided  gently  upon  the  floor. 
The  train  of  ideas  suggested  was,  in  fact,  too  much 
for  her  heated  brain  and  shattered  nerves.  Sud 
denly  there  was  a  rush  to  the  pew,  and  the  fainting 
Jady  was  taken  out.  When  she  came  to  the  air,  she 
slightly  revived. 

"I ray   what  is    the    matter?"    said   Mrs.   Deacon 


1M  LF.TTKR8 — BIOOKAPH1UAL, 

K  . . . .,  who  bent  over  her,  holding  a  smelling-bottle 
to  her  nose. 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  heat  of  those  awful  stoves,"  said 
Mrs.  Deacon  P  . . . . 

"  No,  no,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Deacon  K . . . . ; 
"that  can't  be:  it's  a  warm  day,  you  know,  and 
there's  no  fire  in  them." 

"  No  fire  in  the  stoves  ?"  said  Mrs.  Deacon  P  .  .  . . 

"Not  a  particle,"  said  Mrs.  Deacon  K  . . . . 

"  Well,  I  feel  better  now,"  said  the  poor  lady  ;  and 
so  bidding  her  friends  good-by,  she  went  home,  in  a 
manner  suited  to  the  occasion. 

I  have  said  that  in  the  year  1800  there  was  but  a 
single  chaise  in  Ridgefield,  and  this  was  brought, 
I  believe,  from  New  Haven.  There  was  not,  I  im 
agine,  a  coach,  or  any  kind  of  pleasure  vehicle — that 
crazy  old  chaise  excepted — in  the  county  of  Fairfield, 
out  of  the  two  half-shire  towns.  Such  things,  in 
deed,  were  known  at  New  York,  Boston,  and  Phila 
delphia — for  already  the  government  had  laid  a  tax 
upon  pleasure  conveyances ;  but  they  were  compar 
atively  few  in  number,  and  were  mostly  imported. 
In  1798,  there  was  but  one  public  hack  in  New  Ha 
ven,  and  but  one  coach  ;  the  latter  belonging  to  Pier- 
point  Edwards,  being  a  large  four-wheeled  vehicle,  for 
two  persons,  called  a  chariot.  In  the  smaller  toyvns, 
there  were  no  pleasure  vehicles  in  use  throughout  New 
England.  What  an  Old  Fogy  the  world  was  then ! 

About  that  time,  there  came  to  our  village  a  man 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    KTC.  137 

by  the  name  of  Jesse  J.  Skellinger,  an  Englishman, 
and  chaisemaker  by  trade.  My  father  engaged  him 
to  build  him  a  chaise.  A  bench  was  set  up  in  our 
barn,  and  certain  trees  of  oak  and  ash  were  cut  in 
our  neighboring  woods.  These  were  sawed  and  sea 
soned,  and  shaped  into  wheels  and  shafts.  Eben. 
Hawley,  half  blacksmith  and  half  wheelwright,  was 
duly  initiated,  and  he  cunningly  wrought  the  iron 
necessary  for  the  work.  In  five  months  the  chaise 
was  finished,  with  a  standing  top — greatly  to  the  ad- ' 
miration  of  our  family.  What  a  gaze  was  there,  my 
countrymen,  as  this  vehicle  went  through  Ridgefield- 
street  upon  its  first  expedition! 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  chaise  manufactory 
in  Ridgefield,  which  has  since  been  a  source  of  large 
revenue  to  the  town.  Skellinger  was  engaged  by 
Elijah  Hawley,  who  had  formerly  done  something  as 
a  \ragon-builder,  and  thus  in  due  time  an  establish 
ment  was  founded,  which  for  many  years  was  noted 
for  the  beauty  and  excellence  of  its  pleasure  vehicles. 

The  origin  of  local  and  special  kinds  of  industry 
is  often  hidden  in  mystery.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
tell  who  began  the  manufactory  of  needles  at  Red- 
ditch,  ribbons  at  St.  Etienne,  or  watches  at  Geneva; 
but  it  is  certain  that  our  chaise,  built  in  our  barn, 
was  the  commencement  of  the  Ridgefield  carriage 
manufactory,  which  greatly  flourished  for  a  time,  and 
gave  rise  to  other  branches  of  mechanical  industry, 
which  still  contribute  to  the  prosperity  of  the  place. 


138  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER    XI. 

Cp-town  and  Down-town — East  End  and  West  End — Master  Stebbins — A 
Model  Schoolmaster — The  School-house — Administration,  of  the  School — 
Zeek  Sanford— School-books — Arithmetic — History — Grammar — Anec 
dote  of  O H. — Country  Schools  of  New  England  in  these  Days 

—Matter  Stabbing1  s  Scholart. 

MY  DEAR  0****** 

Eidgefield,  as  well  as  most  other  places,  had  its 
Up-town  and  Down-town  —  terms  which  have  not 
unfrequently  been  the  occasion  of  serious  divisions 
in  the  affairs  of  Church  and  State.  In  London  this 
distinction  takes  the  name  of  West  End  and  the  City. 
The  French  philosophers  say  that  every  great  cap 
ital  has  similar  divisions — West  End  being  always 
the  residence  of  the  aristocracy  and  East  End  of  the 
canaille.  They  affirm  that  it  is  not  only  so  in  fact  as 
to  London,  Paris,  Vienna,  and  other  capitals  of  the 
present  day,  but  that  it  was  so  in  Rome,  Athens, 
Babylon,  and  Nineveh  of  old.  This  they  explain  by 
a  general  law,  pervading  all  countries  and  all  ages, 
which  establishes  a  current  of  air  from  west  to  east, 
thus  ventilating  and  purifying  the  one,  and  charging 
the  other  with  the  fuliginous  vapors  of  a  crowded 
population.  Hence,  they  say  that  not  only  cities 
must  have  their  West  End  and  East  End,  but  that 
houses  should  be  built  on  the  same  principle — the 
parlor  to  the  west  and  the  kitchen  to  the  east.  This 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC. 

is  surely  laying  deep  the  foundations  of  the  patrician 
and  plebeian  divisions  of  society. 

Whether  our  great  American  cities  furnish  any 
support  to  this  ingenious  theory,  I  leave  to  be  deter 
mined  by  the  philosophers.  I  shall  only  venture  to 
remark  that  Kidgefield,  being  a  village,  had  a  right 
to  follow  its  own  whim,  and  therefore  West  Lane, 
instead  of  being  the  aristocratic  end  of  the  place, 
was  really  rather  the  low  end.  It  constituted  in  fact 
what  was  called  Down-town,  in  distinction  from  the 
more  eastern  and  northern  section,  called  Up-town. 
In  this  latter  portion,  and  about  the  middle  of  the 
main  street,  was  the  Up-town  school,  the  leading 
seminary  of  the  village,  for  at  this  period  it  had 
not  arrived  at  the  honors  of  an  academy.  At  the 
age  of  ten  years  I  was  sent  here,  the  institution  be 
ing  then,  and  many  years  after,  under  the  charge  of 
Master  Stebbins.  He  was  a  man  with  a  conciliating 
stoop  in  the  shoulders,  a  long  body,  short  legs,  and 
a  swaying  walk.  He  was,  at  this  period,  some  fifty 
years  old,  his  hair  being  thin  and  silvery,  and  always 
falling  in  well-combed  rolls,  over  his  coat-collar.  His 
eye  was  blue,  and  his  dress  invariably  of  the  same 
color.  Breeches  and  knee-buckles,  blue-mixed  stock 
ings,  and  shoes  with  bright  buckles,  seemed  as  much 
a  part  of  the  man  as  his  head  and  shoulders.  On 
the  whole,  his  appearance  was  that  of  the  middle- 
class  gentleman  of  the  olden  tune,  and  he  was  in 
fact  what  he  seemed. 


140  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

This  seminary  of  learning  for  the  rising  aristocracy 
of  Eidgefield  was  a  wooden  edifice,  thirty  by  twenty 
feet,  covered  with  brown  clapboards,  and  except  an 
entry,  consisted  of  a  single  room.  Around,  and 
against  the  walls  ran  a  continuous  line  of  seats,  front 
ed  by  a  continuous  writing-desk.  Beneath,  were 
depositories  for  books  and  writing  materials.  The 
center  was  occupied  by  slab  seats,  similar  to  those 
of  West  Lane.  The  larger  scholars  were  ranged  on 
the  outer  sides,  at  the  desks ;  the  smaller  fry  of 
a-b-c-darians  were  seated  in  the  center.  The  master 
was  enshrined  on  the  east  side  of  the  room,  contrary, 
be  it  remembered,  to  the  law  of  the  French  savans, 
which  places  dominion  invariably  in  the  west.  Reg 
ular  as  the  sun,  Master  Stebbins  was  in  his  seat  at 
nine  o'clock,  and  the  performances  of  the  school 
began. 

According  to  the  Catechism — which,  by  the  way, 
we  learned  and  recited  on  Saturday — the  chief  end  of 
man  was  to  glorify  God  and  keep  his  commandments : 
according  to  the  routine  of  this  school,  one  would 
have  thought  it  to  be  reading,  writing,  and  arithme 
tic,  to  which  we  may  add  spelling.  From  morning 
to  night,  in  all  weathers,  through  every  season  of  the 
year,  these  exercises  were  carried  on  with  the  energy, 
patience,  and  perseverance  of  a  manufactory. 

Master  Stebbins  respected  his  calling:  his  heart 
was  in  his  work  ;  and  so,  what  he  pretended  to  teach, 
he  taught  well.  When  I  entered  the  school,  I  found 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  141 

that  a  huge  stride  had  been  achieved  in  the  march  ol 
mind  since  I  had  left  West  Lane.  Webster's  Spelling- 
book  had  taken  the  place  of  Dil  worth,  which  was  a 
great  improvement.  The  drill  in  spelling  was  very 
thorough,  and  applied  every  day  to  the  whole  school. 
I  imagine  that  the  exercises  might  have  been  amusing 
to  a  stranger,  especially  as  one  scholar  would  some 
times  go  off  in  a  voice  as  grum  as  that  of  a  bull-frog, 
while  another  would  follow  in  tones  as  fine  and  pi 
ping  as  a  peet-weet.  The  blunders,  too,  were  often 
ineffably  ludicrous ;  even  we  children  would  some 
times  have  tittered,  had  not  such  an  enormity  been 
certain  to  have  brought  out  the  birch.  As  to  rewards 
and  punishments,  the  system  was  this:  whoever  miss 
ed  went  down ;  so  that  perfection  mounted  to  the  top. 
Here  was  the  beginning  of  the  up  and  down  of  life. 

Beading  was  performed  in  classes,  which  generally 
plodded  on  without  a  hint  from  the  master.  Never 
theless,  when  Zeek  Sanford* — who  was  said  to  have 
a  streak  of  lightning  in  him — in  his  haste  to  be  smart, 


*  Ezekiel  Sanford  was  a  sou  of  Colonel  Benjamin  Sanford,  of  Reading. 
The  latter  married  a  daughter  of  Col.  David  Olmstead,  of  Ridgefield,  a 
man  of  great  respectability  :  after  residing  a  few  years  here,  he  removed 
to  Onondaga  county,  New  York,  and  thence  to  Philadelphia,  and  after 
ward  to  Germantown,  where  he  died  about  thirty  years  ago. 

Ezekiel,  our  schoolmate,  was  a  lad  of  great  spirit  and  excellent  ca 
pacity.  He  was  educated  at  Yale  College,  and  was  there  noted  as  a 
promising  writer.  He  subsequently  became  editor  of  the  Eclectic  Maga 
zine  at  Philadelphia,  and  in  1819,  published  a  History  of  the  United  States 
before  the  Revolution,,  with  some  account  of  the  Aborigines.  Having  stud 
ied  law,  he  removed  to  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  where  he  died  about 
the  year  1825. 


142  LKTTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

read  the  37th  verse  of  the  2d  chapter  of  the  Acts — 
"  Now  when  they  heard  this,  they  were  pickled  in 
their  heart" — the  birch  stick  on  Master  Stebbins's  ta 
ble  seemed  to  quiver  and  peel  at  the  little  end,  as  if 
to  give  warning  of  the  wrath  to  come.  When  Orry 
Keeler — Orry  was  a  girl,  you  know,  and  not  a  boy 
— drawled  out  in  spelling :  k — o — n,  kon,  a — h — u — n 
— t — s,  shunts,  konshunts — the  bristles  in  the  master's 
eyebrows  fidgeted  like  Aunt  Delight's  knitting-nee 
dles.  Occasionally,  when  the  reading  was  insupport- 
ably  bad,  he  took  a  book  and  read  himself,  as  an 
example. 

We  were  taught  arithmetic  in  Daboll,  then  a  new 
book,  and  which,  being  adapted  to^our  measures  of 
length,  weight,  and  currency,  was  a  prodigious  leap 
over  the  head  of  poor  old  Dilworth,  whose  rules  and 
examples  were  modeled  upon  English  customs.  In 
consequence  of  the  general  use  of  Dilworth  in  our 
schools,  for  perhaps  a  century — pounds,  shillings,  and 
pence  were  classical,  and  dollars  and  cents  vulgar,  for 
several  succeeding  generations.  "  I  would  not  give  a 
penny  for  it,"  was  genteel ;  "  I  would  not  give  a 
cent  for  it,"  was  plebeian.  We  have  not  yet  got  over 
this :  we  sometimes  say  red  cent  in  familiar  parlance, 
but  it  can  hardly  be  put  in  print  without  offense. 

Master  Stebbins  was  a  "great  man  with  a  slate  and 
pencil,  and  I  have  an  idea  that  we  were  a  generation 
after  his  own  heart.  We  certainly  achieved  wonders 
according  to  our  own  conceptions,  some  of  us  going 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  143 

even  beyond  the  Rule  of  Three,  and  making  forays 
into  the  mysterious  region  of  Vulgar  Fractions. 
Several  daring  geniuses  actually  entered  and  took 
possession. 

But  after  all,  penmanship  was  Master  Stebbins's 
great  accomplishment.  He  had  no  magniloquent 
system ;  no  pompous  lessons  upon  single  lines  and 
bifid  lines,  and  the  like.  The  revelations  of  in 
spired  copy-book  makers  had  not  then  been  vouch 
safed  to  man.  He  could  not  cut  an  American  eagle 
with  a  single  flourish  of  a  goose-quill.  He  was  gui 
ded  by  good  taste  and  native  instinct,  and  wrote  a 
smooth  round  hand,  like  copper-plate.  His  lessons 
from  A  to  &,  all  written  by  himself,  consisted  of  pithy 
proverbs  and  useful  moral  lessons.  On  every  page 
of  our  writing-books  he  wrote  the  first  line  himself. 
The  effect  was  what  might  have  been  expected — with 
such  models,  patiently  enforced,  nearly  all  became 
good  writers. 

Beyond  these  simple  elements,  the  Up-town  school 
made  few  pretensions.  When  I  was  there,  two  Web 
ster's  Grammars  and  one  or  two  Dwight's  Geographies 
were  in  use.  The  latter  was  without  maps  or  illustra 
tions,  and  was  in  fact  little  more  than  an  expanded  ta 
ble  of  contents,  taken  from  Morse's  Universal  Geogra 
phy — the  mammoth  monument  of  American  learning 
and  genius  of  that  age  and  generation.  The  grammar 
was  a  clever  book ;  but  I  have  an  idea  that  neither 
Master  Stebbins  nor  his  pupils  ever  fathomed  its 


144  LETTERS — BIOGBAPHICAL, 

depths.  They  floundered  about  in  it,  as  if  in  a 
quagmire,  and  after  some  time  came  out  pretty  nearly 
where  they  went  in,  though  perhaps  a  little  obfus 
cated  by  the  dim  and  dusky  atmosphere  of  these 
labyrinths. 

The  fact  undoubtedly  is,  that  the  art  of  teaching, 
as  now  understood,  beyond  the  simplest  elements, 
was  neither  known  nor  deemed  necessary  in  our 
country  schools  in  their  day  of  small  things.  Repe 
tition,  drilling,  line  upon  line,  and  precept  upon  pre 
cept,  with  here  and  there  a  little  of  the  birch — con 
stituted  the  entire  system. 

James  G.  Carter*  had  not  then  begun  the  series  ol 
publications,  which  laid  the  foundation  of  the  great 
movement  in  school  education,  which  afterward  per 
vaded  New  England.  "  Bring  up  a  child  in  the  way 
in  which  he  should  go,"  was  the  principle ;  the  prac 
tice  regarded  this  way  as  straight  and  narrow  — 
somewhat  like  a  gun-barrel — and  the  scholar  as  a 
bullet,  who  was  to  go  ahead,  whether  he  had  to 
encounter  a  pine  board  or  an  oak  knot.  In  climb 
ing  up  the  steep  ascent  to  knowledge,  he  was  expect 
ed  to  rely  upon  his  own  genius ;  a  kindly,  helping 
hand  along  the  rough  and  dubious  passages,  was  rare 
ly  extended  to  him.  "  Do  this!"  said  the  master,  with 
his  eye  bent  on  the  ferule,  and  generally  the  pupil 
did  it,  if  the  matter  related  to  the  simpler  school 

*  See  note  V.,  D.  540. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  14:5 

exercises.     But  when  you  came  to  grammar — that 
was  quite  another  thing. 

Let  me  here  repeat  an  anecdote,  which  I  have  in 
deed  told  before,  but  which  I  had  from  the  lips  of  its 
hero,  G  . . .  H  . . .,  a  clergyman  of  some  note  thirty 
years  ago,  and  which  well  illustrates  this  part  of  my 
story.  At  a  village  school,  not  many  miles  from 
Bidgefield,  he  was  put  into  Webster's  Grammar.  Here 
he  read,  "A  noun  is  the  name  of  a  thing — as  horse,  hair, 
justice"  Now,  in  his  innocence,  he  read  it  thus  :  "  A 
noun  is  the  name  of  a  thing-r-as  horse-hair  justice.'1 

"  What  then,"  said  he,  ruminating  deeply,  "  is  a 
noun  ?  But  first  I  must  find  out  what  a  horse-hair 
justice  is." 

Upon  this  he  meditated  for  some  days,  but  still 
he  was  as  far  as  ever  from  the  solution.  Now  his 
father  was  a  man  of  authority  in  those  parts,  and 
moreover  he  was  a  justice  of  the  peace.  Withal,  he 
was  of  respectable  ancestry,  and  so  there  had  de 
scended  to  him  a  somewhat  stately  high-backed  settee, 
covered  with  horse-hair.  One  day,  as  the  youth  came 
from  school,  pondering  upon  the  great  grammatical 
problem,  he  entered  the  front  door  of  the  house,  and 
there  he  saw  before  him,  his  father,  officiating  in  his 
legal  capacity,  and  seated  upon  the  old  horse-hair 
settee.  "  I  have  found  it !"  said  the  boy  to  himself, 
as  greatly  delighted  as  was  Archimedes  when  he  ex 
claimed  Eureka — "  my  father  is  a  horse-hair  justice, 
and  therefore  a  noun  !" 

VOL.  I.— 7 


146  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Nevertheless,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  world 
got  on  remarkably  well  in  spite  of  this  narrowness 
of  the  country  schools.  The  elements  of  an  Eng 
lish  education  were  pretty  well  taught  throughout 
the  village  seminaries  of  Connecticut,  and  I  may 
add,  of  New  England.  The  teachers  were  heartily 
devoted  to  their  profession  :  they  respected  their  call 
ing,  and  were  respected  and  encouraged  by  the  com 
munity.  They  had  this  merit,  that  while  they  at 
tempted  but  little,  that,  at  least,  was  thoroughly  per 
formed.  1  •-; 

As  to  the  country  at  large,  it  was  a  day  of  quiet, 
though  earnest  action  :  Franklin's  spirit  was  the  great 
"  schoolmaster  abroad" — teaching  industry,  persever 
ance,  frugality,  and  thrift,  as  the  end  and  aim  of  am 
bition.  The  education  of  youth  was  suited  to  what 
was  expected  of  them.  With  the  simple  lessons  of 
the  country  schools,  they  moved  the  world  imme 
diately  around  them.  Though  I  can  recollect  only  a 
single  case — that  already  alluded  to  of  Ezekiel  San- 
ford — in  which  one  of  Master  Stebbins's  scholars  at 
tained  any  degree  of  literary  distinction,  still,  quite  a 
number  of  them,  with  no  school  learning  beyond 
what  he  gave  them,  rose  to  a  certain  degree  of  emi 
nence.  His  three  sons  obtained  situations  in  New 
York  as  accountants,  and  became  distinguished  in 
their  career.  At  one  period  there  were  three  gradu 
ates  of  his  school,  who  were  cashiers  of  banks  in 
that  city.  My  mind  adverts  now  with  great  satisfac- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  147 

tion  to  several  names  among  the  wealthy,  honorable, 
and  still  active  merchants  of  the  great  metropolis, 
who  were  my  fellow-students  of  the  Up-town  school, 
and  who  there  began  and  completed  their  education. 
I  will  venture  to  name  another — Bufus  H.  King, 
of  Albany,  who  was  my  competitor  in  every  study, 
and  my  friend  in  every  play.  May  I  not  be  permit 
ted  to  add  that  he  has  ever  been,  and  still  is,  my 
friend  ?  As  a  man,  he  is  precisely  what  he  promised 
to  be  as  Master  Stebbins's  pupil.  I  know  he  will  ex 
cuse  me  for  thus  speaking  of  him  in  behalf  of  our 
revered  old  schoolmaster,  to  whose  character  and 
memory  I  can  inscribe  no  more  worthy  monument 
than  this  reference  to  his  pupils. 


LETTER    XII. 

Horsemanship — Bigjs  Adventures — A  Dead  Shot — A  Race — Academical 
Honors — Charles  Chatterbox — My  Father's  School — My  Exercises  in  Latin 
— Tityre  tu  patulce,  etc. — Rambles — Literary  Aspirations — -My  Mother — 
Family  Worship — Standing  and  Kneeling  at  Prayer — Anecdotes — Out 
Philistine  Temple. 

MY    DEAR    0****** 

Permit  me  a  few  more  details  as  to  my  school- 
day  recollections.  I  went  steadily  to  the  Up-town 
school  for  three  winters,  being  occupied  during  the 
Bummers  upon  the  farm,  and  in  various  minor  duties. 


148  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

I  was  a  great  deal  on  horseback^  often  carrying  mes 
sages  to  the  neighboring  towns  of  Reading,  Wilton, 
Westou,  and  Lower  Salem,  for  then  the  post-routes 
were  few,  and  the  mails,  which  were  weekly,  crept  like 
snails  over  hill  and  valley.  I  became  a  bold  rider  at 
an  early  age  ;  before  I  was  eight  years  old,  I  frequently 
ventured  to  put  a  horse  to  his  speed,  and  that,  too, 
without  a  saddle.  A  person  who  has  never  tried  it, 
can  hardly  conceive  of  the  wild  delight  of  riding  a 
swift  horse — when  he  lays  down  his  ears,  tosses  his 
tail  in  air,  and  stretches  himself  out  in  a  full  race. 
The  change  which  the  creature  undergoes,  in  passing 
from  an  ordinary  gait  into  a  run,  is  felt  by  the  rider 
to  be  a  kind  of  sudden  inspiration,  which  triumphs 
like  wings  over  the  dull,  dragging  laws  of  gravitation. 
The  intense  energy  of  the  beast's  movements,  the 
rush  of  the  air,  the  swimming  backward  of  lands, 
houses,  and  trees,  with  the  clattering  thunder  of  the 
hoofs — all  convey  to  the  rider  a  fierce  ecstasy,  which, 
perhaps,  nothing  else  can  give.  About  this  period, 
however,  I  received  a  lesson,  which  lasted  me  a  life 
time. 

You  must  know  that  Deacon  Benedict,  one  of  our 
neighbors,  had  a  fellow  living  with  him,  named 
Abijah.  He  was  an  adventurous  youth,  and  more 
than  once  led  me  into  tribulation.  I  remember  that 
on  one  occasion  I  went  with  him  to  shoot  a  dog  that 
was  said  to  worry  the  deacon's  sheep.  It  was  night, 
and  dark  as  Egypt,  but  Bige  said  he  could  see  the 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  149 

creature,  close  to  tho  cow-house,  back  of  the  barn 
He  banged  away,  and  then  jumped  over  the  fence, 
to  pick  up  the  game.  After  a  time  he  came  back,  but 
said  not  a  word.  Next  morning  it  was  found  that 
he  had  shot  the  brindled  cow;  mistaking  a  white 
spot  in  her  forehead  for  the  dog,  he  had  taken  deadly 
aim,  and  put  the  whole  charge  into  her  pate.  For 
tunately  her  skull  was  thick  and  the  shot  small,  so 
the  honest  creature  was  only  a  little  cracked.  Bige, 
however,  was  terribly  scolded  by  the  deacon,  who  was 
a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  had  a  deep  sense  of  the 
importance  of  his  duties.  I  came  in  for  a  share  of 
blame,  though  I  was  only  a  looker-on.  Bige  said 
the  deacon  called  me  a  "parsnip  scrimmage,"  but 
more  probably  it  was  a  particeps  criminis. 

But  to  proceed.  One  day  I  was  taking  home  from 
the  pasture,  a  horse  that  belonged  to  some  clergyman 
— I  believe  Dr.  Eipley,  of  Green sfarms.  Just  as  I  came 
upon  the  level  ground  in  front  of  Jerry  Mead's  old 
house,  Bige  came  up  behind  me  on  the  deacon's  mare — 
an  ambling  brute  with  a  bushy  tail  and  shaggy  mane. 
As  he  approached,  he  gave  a  chirrup,  and  my  horse, 
half  in  fright  and  half  in  fun,  bounded  away,  like  Tarn 
O'Shanter's  mare.  Every  hair  in  the  creature's  tail 
and  mane  stood  out,  as  if  spinning  Avith  electricity. 
Away  we  went,  I  holding  on  as  well  as  I  could,  for 
the  animal  was  round  as  a  barrel.  He  was  no  doubt 
used  to  a  frolic  of  this  sort,  although  he  belonged  to 
a  D.  D.,  and  looked  as  if  he  believed  in  total  deprav- 


150  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ity.  When  he  finally  broke  into  a  ran,  he  flew  like 
the  wind,  at  the  same  time  bounding  up  and  down 
with  a  tearing  energy,  quite  frightful  to  think  of. 
After  a  short  race,  he  went  from  under  me,  and  I 
came  with  a  terrible  shock  to  the  ground. 

The  breath  was  knocked  out  of  me  for  some  sec 
onds,  and  as  I  recovered  it  with  a  gasping  effort,  iny 
sensations  were  indescribably  agonizing.  Greatly 
humbled,  and  sorely  bruised,  I  managed  to  get  home, 
where  the  story  of  my  adventure  had  preceded  me. 
I  was  severely  lectured  by  my  parents,  which,  how 
ever,  I  might  have  forgotten,  had  not  the  concussion 
entered  into  my  bones,  and  made  an  indelible  impres 
sion  upon  my  memory,  thus  perpetuating  the  whole 
some  counsel. 

When  I  was  about  twelve  years  old,  a  man  by 
the  name  of  Sackett  was  employed  to  keep  a  high- 
school,  or,  as  it  was  then  called,  an  Academy.  Here 
I  went  irregularly  for  a  few  weeks,  and  at  a  public 
exhibition  I  remember  to  have  spoken  a  piece  upon  a 
stage  fitted  up  in  the  meeting-house,  entitled  "Charles 
Chatterbox."  Irad  Hawley,  Rufus  H.  King,  and  Sally 
Ingersoll,  played  Hagar  and  Ishmael.  This  was  the 
substance  of  my  achievements  at  Sackett's  semi 
nary. 

The  narrowness  of  my  father's  income,  and  the 
needs  of  a  large  family,  induced  him  to  take  half  a 
dozen  pupils  to  be  fitted  for  college.  This  he  con 
tinued  for  a  series  of  years.  Some  of  his  scholars 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  151 

came  from  New  Haven,  some  from  Danbury,  and 
some  from  other  places.  I  may  remark,  in  passing, 
that  a  number  of  these — some  of  whom  are  still  liv 
ing — distinguished  themselves  in  various  liberal  pur 
suits.  It  might  seem  natural  that  I  should  have 
shared  in  these  advantages ;  but,  in  the  first  place, 
my  only  and  elder  brother,  Charles  A.  Goodrich — 
now  widely  known  by  his  numerous  useful  publica 
tions — had  been  destined  for  the  clerical  profession, 
partly  by  his  own  predilection,  partly  by  encourage 
ment  from  a  relative,  and  partly  too  from  an  idea 
that  his  somewhat  delicate  constitution  forbade  a 
more  hardy  career.  To  this  may  doubtless  be  added 
the  natural  desire  of  his  parents  that  at  least  one  of 
their  sons  should  follow  the  honored  calling  to  which 
father,  grandfather,  and  great-grandfather  had  been 
devoted.  Hence,  he  was  put  in  training  for  college. 
The  expenses  to  be  thus  incurred  were  formidable 
enough  to  my  parents,  without  adding  to  them,  by 
attempting  any  thing  of  the  kind  for  me.  And  be 
sides,  I  had  manifested  no  love  of  study,  and  evi 
dently  preferred  action  to  books.  Moreover,  it  must 
be  remembered  that  I  was  regarded  as  a  born  carpen 
ter,  and  it  would  have  seemed  a  tempting  of  Provi 
dence  to  have  set  me  upon  any  other  career.  So, 
with  perfect  content  on  my  part,  from  the  age  of 
twelve  to  fourteen,  I  was  chiefly  employed  in  active 
services  about  the  house  and  farm.  I  could  read, 
write,  and  cipher;  this  was  suffi  ,ient  for  my  ambi- 


152  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

tion,  and  satisfactory  to  my  parents,  in  view  of  the 
life  to  which  I  was  apparently  destined. 

Nevertheless,  though  my  school  exercises  were 
such  as  I  have  described,  I  doubtless  gathered  some 
little  odds  and  ends  of  learning  about  those  days, 
beyond  the  range  of  my  horn-books.  I  heard  a  good 
deal  of  conversation  from  the  clergymen  who  visited 
us,  and  above  all,  I  listened  to  the  long  discourses 
of  Lieutenant  Smith  upon  matters  and  things  in  gen 
eral.  My  father,  too,  had  a  brother  in  Congress, 
from  whom  he  received  letters,  documents,  and  mes 
sages,  all  of  which  became  subjects  of  discussion.  I 
remember  furthermore,  that  out  of  some  childish  im 
itation,  I  thumbed  over  Corderius  and  Erasmus — the 
first  Latin  books,  then  constantly  in  the  hands  of  my 
father's  pupils.  I  was  so  accustomed  to  hear  them 
recite  their  lessons  in  Virgil,  that 

Tityre  tu  patula  recubaw  sub  tegmine  fngi —  "7 

and 

Anna-,  arms — virumque,  aud  the  man — carw,  I  sing — 

were  as  familiar  to  my  ears  as  hillery,  tillery,  zachery 
zan,  and  probably  conveyed  to  my  mind  about  as 
much  meaning.  Even  the  first  lesson  in  Greek — 

Ev,  in — <x£x»j,  the  beginning — »jv,  was — 6  Xoyoj,  the  Woid — 

was  also  among  the  cabalistic  jingles  in  my  mem 
ory.  All  this  may  seem  nothing  as  a  matter  of  edu 
cation  ;  still,  some  years  after,  while  I'was  an  appren- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  '153 

lice  in  Hartford,  feeling  painfully  impressed  with  the 
scantiness  of  my  knowledge,  I  borrowed  some  Latin 
school-books,  under  the  idea  of  attempting  to  master 
that  language.  To  my  delight  and  surprise,  I  found 
that  they  seemed  familiar  to  me.  Thus  encouraged, 
[  began,  and  bending  steadily  over  my  task  at  even 
ing,  when  rny  day's  duties  were  over,  I  made  my  way 
nearly  through  the  Latin  Grammar  and  the  first  two 
books  of  Yirgil's  JEneid.  In  my  poverty  of  knowl 
edge,  even  these  acquisitions  became  useful  to  me. 

From  the  age  of  twelve  to  fifteen,  in  the  midst  of 
my  activity,  I  still  lived  largely  upon  dreams.  Noth 
ing  could  be  more  ludicrous  than  the  extravagance 
of  these,  except  it  might  be  their  vividness  and  seem 
ing  reality,  in  contrast  to  all  the  probabilities  of  my 
condition.  Though  generally  occupied  in  the  vari 
ous  tasks  assigned  me,  I  still  found  a  good  deal  of 
time  to  ramble  over  the  country.  Whole  days  I  spent 
in  the  long,  lonesome  lanes  that  wound  between 
Eidgefield  and  Salem  ;  in  the  half-cultivated,  half- 
wooded  hills  that  lay  at  the  foot  of  West  Mountain, 
and  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  wild  and  rugged  re 
gions  beyond.  I  frequently  climbed  to  the  top  of 
the  cliffs  and  ridges  that  rose  one  above  another, 
and  having  gained  the  crown  of  the  mountain,  cast 
long  and  wistful  glances  over  the  blue  vale  that 
stretched  out  for  many  miles  to  the  westward.  I  had 
always  rny  gun  in  hand,  and  though  not  insensible 
to  any  sport  that  might  fall  in  my  way,  I  was  more 

7* 


154;  I.KTTER8 — BIOGRAPHICAL,  ' 

absorbed  in  the  fancies  that  came  thronging  to  my 
imagination.  I  had  a  love  of  solitary  and  even  des 
olate  scenes :  there  seemed  to  be  in  me  an  appetite 
that  found  satisfaction  in  the  wild  and  precipitous 
passes  of  the  wilderness.  This,  after  an  absence  of 
a  few  weeks,  would  return  like  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  I  felt  a  longing  for  the  places  which  appeased 
it.  Thus  I  became  familiar  with  the  whole  country 
around,  and  especially  with  the  shaded  glens  and 
gorges  of  West  Mountain.  I  must  add  that  these 
had,  besides  their  native,  savage  charms,  a  sort  of 
fascination  from  being  the  residence  of  a  strange  wo 
man,  who  had  devoted  herself  to  solitude,  and  was 
known  under  the  name  of  the  Hermitess.  This  per 
sonage — whom  I  shall  hereafter  describe  more  partic 
ularly — I  had  occasionally  seen  in  our  village,  and  I 
frequently  met  her  as  she  glided  through  the  forests, 
while  I  was  pursuing  my  mountain  rambles.  I  some 
times  felt  a  strange  thrill  as  she  passed,  but  this  only 
seemed  to  render  the  recesses  where  she  dwelt  still 
more  inviting. 

Of  all  the  seasons,  autumn  was  to  me  the  most 
pleasing.  Even  late  in  November,  when  the  leaves 
had  fallen  and  were  driven  about  in  eddies  by  the 
hollow  winds — the  tall  trees  creaking  and  moaning 
aloft — the  remote  and  solitary  wilds  had  their  fas 
cination.  There  was  in  me  certainly  none  of  the 
misanthropic  feeling  which  made  Byron  fall  in  love 
with  such  scenes.  Nevertheless,  some  passages  in 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC  AL,  ETC.  155 

Childe  Harold,  which  appeared  a  few  years  after,  de 
scribed  the  emotions  I  then  experienced,  and  gave  full 
expression  to  the  struggling  but  imprisoned  thoughts 
which  filled  my  bosom.  It  is  one  of  the  highest  of 
fices  of  the  poet  to  furnish  words  for  the  deep,  yet 
unspoken  poetry  of  the  soul.  Certainly  no  language 
of  mine  can  express  the  delight  with  which  I  have 
read  and  re-read  the  following  stanza,  and  which  has 
ever  seemed  to  me  like  unsealing  a  mystic  fountain 
in  my  bosom — that  has  since  flowed  on  in  a  stream 
of  pleasing  associations. 

"  To  sit  on  rocks,  to  muse  o'er  flood  and  fell, 
To  slowly  trace  the  forest's  shady  scene, 
Where  things  that  own  not  man's  dominion  dwell, 
And  mortal  foot  hath  ne'er  or  rarely  been — 
To  climb  the  trackless  mountain,  all  unseen, 
With  the  wild  flock  that  never  needs  a  fold- 
Alone  o'er  steeps  and  pouring  falls  to  lean : 
This  is  not  solitude ;  'tis  but  to  hold 

Converse  with  nature's  charms,  and  view  her  stores  unroll'd." 

I  must  repeat  that  however  much  I  was  attracted 
by  these  wild  and  lonesome  scenes,  and  however  I 
may  have  felt  a  tinge  of  melancholy  in  my  solitary 
walks,  I  had  no  feeling  of  unhappiness,  no  oppressive 
sense  of  isolation,  no  anxiety,  no  ennui.  It  is  true 
that  at  such  times,  there  came  to  me  scraps  of  solemn 
poetry  from  Milton,  Young,  and  Watts,  of  which  my 
mother's  mind  was  full,  and  which  she  loved  to  re 
peat.  These  broke  in  snatches  upon  my  memory,  and 


1  56  LKTTER8 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

served  as  lightning-rods  to  conduct  to  my  lips  some 
of  the  burning  emotions  of  my  breast.  I  remember 
often  to  have  repeated  them,  half  aloud,  while  I  was 
in  the  woods,  though  doubtless  without  having  any 
very  exact  appreciation  of  their  meaning,  or  the 
slightest  regard  to  any  fitness  of  application.  I  could 
not  then  write  a  reliable  line  of  sense  or  grammar ; 
still,  among  my  fancies  I  planned  poems,  and  even 
dreamed  of  literary  fame.  Such  I  was  in  fact  to  my 
own  consciousness,  while  at  the  same  time  I  was  re 
garded  by  all  around  as  a  rather  thoughtless,  though 
happy  boy,  with  a  genius  for  whittling. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  I  inherited  from  my  mother 
a  love  of  the  night  side  of  nature — not  a  love  that 
begets  melancholy,  but  an  appetite  that  found  pleas 
ure  in  the  shadows  as  well  as  the  lights  of  life  and 
imagination  Eminently  practical  as  she  was — labori 
ous,  skillful,  and  successful  in  the  duties  which  Prov 
idence  had  assigned  her,  as  the  head  of  a  large  family, 
with  narrow  means — she  was  still  of  a  poetic  tem 
perament.  Her  lively  fancy  was  vividly  set  forth  by 
a  pair  of  the  finest  eyes  I  have  ever  seen — dark  and 
serious,  yet  tender  and  sentimental.  These  bespoke 
not  only  the  vigor  of  her  conceptions,  but  the  melan 
choly  tinge  that  shaded  her  imagination.  Sometimes 
indeed  the  well  of  sadness  in  her  heart  became  full,  and 
it  ran  over  in  tears.  These,  however,  were  like  spring 
showers — brief  in  duration,  and  afterward  brighten 
ing  to  all  around.  She  was  not  the  only  woman  who 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  157 

has  felt  better  after  a  good  cry.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  po 
etic,  not  a  real  sorrow,  that  thus  excited  her  emotions, 
for  her  prevailing  humor  abounded  in  wit  and  viva 
city,  not  unfrequently  taking  the  hue  of  playful  satire. 
Nevertheless,  her  taste  craved  the  pathetic,  the  mourn 
ful — not  as  a  bitter  medicine,  but  a  spicy  condiment. 
Her  favorite  poets  were  King  David  and  Dr.  Watts  : 
she  preferred  the  dirge-like  melody  of  Windham  to 
all  other  music.  All  the  songs  she  sang  were  minors. 
Alas !  how  few  are  now  living  to  verify  this  feeble 
portrait — among  the  cloud  of  witnesses  who  would 
once  have  testified  to  the  general,  though  inadequate 
resemblance ! 

You  will  gather  from  what  I  have  said  that  my 
father  not  only  prayed  in  his  family  night  and  morn 
ing  ;  but  before  breakfast,  and  immediately  after  the 
household  was  assembled,  he  always  read  a  chapter  in 
the  sacred  volume.  In  our  family  Bible  it  is  record 
ed  that  he  thus  read  that  holy  book  through,  in 
course,  thirteen  times,  in  the  space  of  about  five  and 
twenty  years.  He  was  an  excellent  reader,  having  a 
remarkably  clear,  frank,  hearty  voice,  so  that  I  was 
deeply  interested,  and  thus  early  became  familiar  with 
almost  every  portion  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament. 
The  narrative  passages  seized  most  readily  upon  my 
attention,  and  formed  the  greater  part  of  my  early 
knowledge.  The  direct,  simple  style  of  the  Bible 
entered  into  my  heart,  and  became  for  a  long  time 
my  standard  of  taste  in  literary  composition.  It  cost 


158  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

me  a  real  struggle,  long  afterward,  to  relish  the  mag 
niloquence  of  such  writers  as  Johnson,  despite  the 
smack  of  Latin  and  Greek  in  its  composition,  and  the 
ponderous  force  of  thought  which  it  conveyed. 

The  practice  of  family  worship,  as  I  before  stated, 
was  at  this  time  very  general  in  New  England.  In 
Kidgefield,  it  was  not  altogether  confined  to  the 
strictly  religious — to  clergymen',  deacons,  and  church 
members.  It  was  a  custom  which  decency  hardly 
allowed  to  be  omitted.  No  family  was  thought  to  go 
on  well  without  .it.  There  is  a  good  story  which 
well  describes  this  trait  of  manners. 

Somewhere  in  Vermont,  in  this  golden  age,  there 
was  a  widow  by  the  name  of  Bennett.  In  conse 
quence  of  the  death  of  her  husband,  the  charge  of  a 
large  farm  and  an  ample  household  devolved  upon 
her.  Her  husband  had  been  a  pious  man,  and  all 
things  had  prospered  with  him.  His  widow,  alike 
from  religious  feeling  and  affectionate  regard  for  his 
memory,  desired  that  every  thing  should  be  conduct 
ed  as  much  as  possible  as  it  had  been  during  his  life 
time.  Especially  did  she  wish  the  day  to  begin  and 
close  with  family  worship. 

Now  she  had  a  foreman  on  the  farm  by  the  name 
of  Ward.  He  was  a  good  man  for  work,  but  faith 
had  not  yet  touched  his  lips,  much  less  his  heart.  In 
vain  did  the  widow,  in  admitting  his  merits  at  the 
plow,  the  scythe,  and  the  flail,  still  urge  him  to  crown 
her  wishes  by  leading  in  family  prayer.  For  a  long 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  159 

time  the  heart  of  the  man  was  hard,  and  his  ear  deaf 
to  h,er  entreaties.  At  last,  however,  wearied  with 
her  importunities,  he  'Seemed  to  change,  and  to  her 
great  joy,  consented  to  make  a  trial. 

On  a  bright  morning  in  June — at  early  sunrise 
— the  family  were  all  assembled  in  the  parlor,  men 
and  maidens,  for  their  devotions.  When  all  was 
ready,  Ward,  in  a  low,  troubled  voice,  began.  He 
had  never  prayed — or  at  least  not  in  public — but 
he  had  heard  many  prayers,  and  possessed  a  retentive 
memory.  After  getting  over  the  first  hesitancy,  he 
soon  became  fluent,  and  taking  passages  here  and 
there  from  the  various  petitions  he  had  heard — Pres 
byterian,  Methodist,  Universalist,  and  Episcopalian — 
he  went  on  with  great  eloquence,  gradually  elevating 
his  tone  and  accelerating  his  delivery.  Ere  long  his 
voice  grew  portentous,  and  some  of  the  men  and 
maids,  thinking  he  was  suddenly  taken  either  mad 
or  inspired,  stole  out  on  their  toes  into  the  kitchen, 
where,  with  gaping  mouths,  they  awaited  the  result. 
The  Widow  Bennett  bore  it  all  for  about  half  an 
hour ;  but  at  last,  as  the  precious  time  was  passing 
away,  she  lost  patience,  and  sprang  to  her  feet.  Pla 
cing  herself  directly  in  front  of  the  speaker,  she  ex 
claimed,  "Ward,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

As  if  suddenly  relieved  from  a  nightmare,  he  ex 
claimed,  "  Oh  dear,  ma'am — I'm  much  obliged  to  you 
— for  I  couldn't  contrive  to  wind  off." 

I  hope  you  will   not  feel   that  this  anecdote  par- 


LKTTKRH BIOGRAPHICAL, 

takes  of  a  license  unworthy  of  these  annals,  for  as 
you  see,  it  has  an  historical  foundation,  as  well  as  a 
practical  moral.     I  regret  to  leave  a  doubt  in  regard 
to  one  of  the  details,  and  that  is,  that  I  have  not  been 
able  to  determine  whether  on  this  occasion  the  family 
stood  up,  leaning  over  the  backs  of  their  chairs,  or  knelt 
before  the  seats.     The  former  was  the  custom  in  my 
younger  days,  Puritanism  perhaps  not  having  over 
come  the  fear  of  imitating  the  soul-endangering  prac 
tices  of  prelacy,  whether  belonging  to  Mother  Church 
of  England  or  the  Scarlet  Lady  of  Rome.     Perhaps, 
too,  the  fatigue  of  standing  was  deemed  an  acceptable 
sacrifice :  I  say  fatigue,  for  in  those  days,  men  gifted 
in  prayer  were  like  the  ocean — so  deep  in  spots  that  it 
required  a  very  long  line  to  reach  the  bottom.   Deacon 
Cooke,  of  Danbury,  a  very  sensible  and  pious  man, 
by  the  way,  once  said  that  he  did  not  believe  the 
spirit  of  prayer  could  be  sustained,  on  ordinary  oc 
casions,  for  more  than  five  minutes  at  a  time.     This, 
however,  was  rank  heresy  then,  and  was  not  under 
stood  or  approved  till  fifty  years  after.     Granther 
Baldwin  was  a  better  representative  of  the  age  I  am 
speaking  of:  beginning  at  the  Creation,  and  coming- 
down  to  the  Fall,  he  would  go  on  through  Babel. 
Babylon,  and  Balaam,  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims, 
Braddock's  defeat,  and  the  Declaration  of  Indepen 
dence.     These  things,  added  to  local  matters,  usually 
Consumed  half  an    hour  at   the    evening  exercises. 
After  a  hard  day's  work — especially  in  summer  time 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  161 

• — it  required  a  strong  understanding  to  endure  it. 
John  Benedict,  then  paying  his  addresses  to  Esther 
Baldwin,  whom  he  afterward  married,  one  night  fell 
asleep  over  his  chair,  at  prayer-time,  and  pitching 
forward  against  Granther  Baldwin,  overturned  both 
him  and  his  devotions.  John  barely  escaped  being 
forbidden  ever  to  enter  the  house  again ;  indeed,  he 
stayed  away  some  weeks,  and  only  returned  upon 
Esther's  going  after  him. 

This  happened  near  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century :  some  five  and  twenty  years  later,  kneeling 
at  family  prayers  had  become  common  in  Connecti 
cut.  A  similar  change  had  also  begun  in  meeting 
house  worship.  At  the  present  time,  it  is  common 
for  people  in  Congregational  churches  even,  to  kneel 
at  prayer-time.  I  am  not  able  to  state,  authorita 
tively,  the  reason  for  this  change,  though  I  presume, 
as  just  intimated,  it  has  arisen  from  the  gradual  wear 
ing  away  of  the  Puritan  prejudice  against  kneeling. 
If  this  be  correct,  it  indicates  an  important  fact, 
which  is,  that  sectarian  diiferences,  especially  those 
of  mere  form,  have  greatly  subsided  of  late  years. 
It  is  in  respect  to  these,  that  there  have  been  the 
most  bitter  contentions  ;  the  movement  here  noticed 
has,  therefore,  in  all  its  bearings,  the  significance  of  a 
real  reform. 

It  is  stated  that  when  the  first  Congress  assembled 
at  Philadelphia,  September,  1774,  the  members,  duly 
impressed  with  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  nat 


162  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

urally  desired  the  aid  of  religious  exercises,  and  there 
fore  the  appointment  of  a  chaplain  was  proposed.  But 
considering  that  the  persons  present  were  of  various 
creeds,  it  was  feared  that  they  could  not  unite  in  the 
choice  of  a  clergyman  to  fulfill  the  duties  of  such  an 
office.  The  difficulty  was,  however,  happily  removed 
by  Samuel  Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  who,  although 
a  rigid  Congregationalist,  proposed  the  appointment 
of  an  Episcopalian,  and  Dr.  Duche,  a  popular  preach 
er  of  Philadelphia,  was  immediately  chosen.  It  must 
have  been  an  interesting  scene — a  minister,  bound  to 
forms,  finding  extemporaneous  words  to  suit  the  oc 
casion,  and  the  Quaker,  the  Presbyterian,  the  Epis 
copalian,  and  the  Eationalist — some  kneeling,  some 
standing,  but  all  praying,  and  looking  to  Heaven  for 
wisdom  and  counsel,  in  this  hour  of  doubt,  anxiety, 
and  responsibility.  Here  is  a  worthy  subject*  for  the 
pencil  of  Weir,  Powell,  Huntington^  Healy,  Page, 
Terry,  Eossiter,  or  some  other  of  our  historical  paint 
ers.  Adams  and  Sherman,  the  Puritans,  standing 
erect;  Thompson,  the  Quaker,  finding  the  move 
ment  of  the  Spirit  in  the  words  of  a  consecrated 
priest ;  with  Washington,  Henry,  and  other  Episco 
palians,  kneeling,  according  to  their  creed,  and  all 
invoking  wisdom  from  above — would  make  a  touch 
ing  and  instructive  picture.  Its  moral  would  be,  that 


*  I  understand  that  this  subject — "  The  First  Prayer  in  Congress"— • 
has  been  painted  and  engraved,  but  not  in  the  style  suited  to  a  great 
national  subject. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  163 

the  greatest  minds,  in  moments  of  difficulty  and  dan 
ger,  acknowledge  their  dependence  upon  God,  and 
feel  the  necessity  of  elevating  and  purifying  their 
hearts  by  prayer ;  and  that  the  differences  of  sect, 
the  distinctions  of  form,  all  vanish  when  emergency 
presses  upon  the  consciences  of  men,  and  forces  them 
to  a  sincere  and  open  avowal  of  their  convictions. 

In  looking  back  to  this  period,  and  remembering 
the  impassable  gulfs  that  lay  between  Christian  sects, 
it  is  gratifying  to  observe  what  is  now  witnessed 
every  Sabbath  in  our  principal  cities — the  Episcopa 
lian,  while  maintaining  his  creed  and  his  forms,  still 
receiving  to  his  communion-table  the  Presbyterian, 
the  Methodist,  the  Congregationalist,  the  Unitarian, 
the  Universalist — all  who  profess  to  be  followers  of 
Christ,  while  these  sectarians  exercise  a  similar  char 
ity  in  return.  Is  not  this  progress — is  not  this  re 
form  ?  How  much  is  meant  by  these  simple  facts — 
the  communion-table  of  Christ  extended;  the  heart 
of  man  expanded,  purified,  ennobled ! 

I  must  not  pass  over  another  incident  in  my  mem 
ory,  and  having  reference  to  the  topic  in  hand.  Un 
der  the  biblical  influence  of  these  days,  my  father's 
scholars  built  a  temple  of  the  Philistines,  and  when 
it  was  completed  within  anjl  without,  all  the  children 
round  about  assembled,  as  did  the  Gazaites  of  old. 
The  edifice  was  chiefly  of  boards,  slenderly  construct 
ed,  and  reached  the  height  of  twelve  feet ;  neverthe 
less,  all  of  us  got  upon  it,  according  to  the  16th 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

chapter  of  Judges.  •  The  oldest  of  the  scholars  played 
Samson.  When  all  was  ready,  he  took  hold  of  the 
pillars  of  the  temple — one  with  his  right  hand  and 
one  with  his  left.  "  Let  me  die  with  the  Philistines  !'r 
said  he,  and  bo  wing  himself,  down  we  came  in  a  heap ! 
Strange  to  say,  nobody  but  Samson  was  hurt,  and  he 
only  in  some  skin  bruises.  If  you  could  see  him 
now — dignified  even  to  solemnity,  and  seldom  conde 
scending  to  any  but  the  gravest  matters — you  would 
scarcely  believe  the  story,  even  though  I  write  it  and 
verify  it.  Nevertheless,  if  he  must  have  played,  he 
should  have  taken  the  part  of  Samson,  for  he  is  one 
of  the  most  gifted  men  I  have  ever  known. 


LETTER    XIII. 

My  father's  Library — Children's  Books — The  New  England  Primer  ana 
Westminster  Catechism — Toy  Books — Nwser-y  Bonks — Moral  Effect  of 
these — Hannah  Morels  Moral  Repository — The.  Shepherd  of  Salisbury 
Plain —  Visit  to  Barley-wood — First  Idea  of  the  Parley  Boohs — Impres 
sions  of  Big  Books  and  Little  Books — A  Comparison  of  the  Old  Books 
and  the  New  Books  for  Children  and  Youth — A  Modern  Juvenile  Book 
store  in  Broadway. 

MY  DEAR  C  ******  «, 

You  will  readily  comprehend  from  what  I  have 
said,  that  up  to  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve  years,  I 
had  made  little  acquaintance  with  literature.  Be 
yond  my  school-books,  I  had  read  almost  nothing. 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOT1CAL,  ETC.  165 

My  father  had  a  considerable  library,  but  it  con 
sisted  mostly  of  theology,  a  great  deal  of  it  in  Latin, 
and  in  large  folios.  Into  such  a  forbidding  mass,  I 
never  penetrated,  save  only  that  I  sometimes/ dipped 
into  a  big  volume,  which  happened  to  be  in  large 
print.  This  was  in  English,  and  was,  I  suspect, 
some  discussion  of  Calvin's  Five  Points ;  still  it 
attracted  my  attention,  and  sometimes,  especially  of 
a  rainy  day,-  when  I  could  hear  the  big  drops  thump 
upon  the  shingles  over  my  head — for  the  library  was 
in  the  second  loft,  and  led  by  an  open  stairway  to  the 
attic — I  read  whole  pages  of  this  book  aloud,  spell 
ing  out  the  large  words  as  well  as  I  could.  I  did  not 
understand  a  sentence  of  it,  but  I  was  fascinated  with 
the  fair  large  type.  This  circumstance  I  have  never 
forgotten,  and  it  should  not  be  overlooked  by  those 
who  make  books  for  children,  for  in  this  case,  I  was 
but  a  representative  of  others  of  my  age. 

It  is  difficult  now,  in  this  era  of  literary  affluence, 
almost  amounting  to  surfeit,  to  conceive  of  the  pov 
erty  of  books  suited  to  children  in  the  days  of  which 
I  write.  Except  the  New  England  Primer — the  main 
contents  of  which  were  the  Westminster  Catechism — 
and  some  rhymes,  embellished  with  hideous  cuts  of 
Adam's  Fall,  in  which  "we  sinned  all;"  the  apostle  and 
a  cock  crowing  at  his  side,  to  show  that  "  Peter  denies 
his  Lord  and  cries;"  Nebuchadnezzar  crawling  about 
like  a  hog,  the  bristles  sticking  out  of  his  back,  and  the 
like — I  remember  none  that  were  in  general  use 


166  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

among  my  companions.  When  I  was  about  ten  yeara 
old,  my  father  brought  from  Hartford,  Gaffer  Ginger, 
Goody  Two  Shoes,  and  some  of  the  rhymes  and  jin 
gles,  now  collected  under  the  name  of  Mother  Goose, 
— with  perhaps  a  few  other  toy  books  of  that  day. 
These  were  a  revelation.  Of  course  I  read  them,  but 
I  must  add  with  no  real  relish. 

Somewhat  later  one  of  my  companions  lent  me  a 
volume  containing  the  stories  of  Little. Red  Riding 
Hood,  Puss  in  Boots,  Blue  Beard,  Jack  the  Giant- 
killer,  and  some  other  of  the  tales  of  horror,  com 
monly  put  into  the  hands  of  youth,  as  if  for  the  ex 
press  purpose  of  reconciling  them  to  vice  and  crime. 
Some  children,  no  doubt,  have  a  ready  appetite  for 
these  monstrosities,  but  to  others  they  are  revolting, 
until  by  repetition  and  familiarity,  the  taste  is  suffi 
ciently  degraded  to  relish  them.  At  all  events,  they 
were  shocking  to  me.  Even  Little  Red  Riding  Hood, 
though  it  seized  strongly  upon  my  imagination,  ex 
cited  in  me  the  most  painful  impressions.  I  believed 
it  to  be  true ;  at  least  it  was  told  with  the  air  of 
truth,  and  I  regarded  it  as  a  picture  of  life.  I  im 
agined  that  what  happened  to  the  innocent  child  of 
the  cottage,  might  happen  to  me  and  to  others.  I 
recollect,  while  the  impression  was  fresh  in  my  mind, 
that  on  going  to  bed,  I  felt  a  creeping  horror  come 
over  me,  as  the  story  recurred  to  my  imagination.  As 
I  dwelt  upon  it,  I  soon  seemed  to  see  the  hideous  jaws 
of  a  wolf  coming  out  of  the  bedclothes,  and  approach- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  KTC.  167 

ing  as  if  to  devour  me.  My  disposition  was  not  tim 
id,  but  the  reverse ;  yet  at  last  I  became  so  excited, 
that  my  mother  was  obliged  to  tell  me  that  the  story 
was  a  mere  fiction. 

"  It  is  not  true,  then  ?"  said  I. 

"  No,"  said  my  mother,  "  it  is  not  true." 

"  Why  do  they  tell  such  falsehoods,  then  ?"  I  re 
plied. 

"  They  are  not  falsehoods,  because  they  are  not 
intended  to  deceive.  They  are  mere  tales  invented 
to  amuse  children." 

"  Well,  they  don't  amuse  me  !" 

I  do  not  remember  the  rest  of  the  conversation : 
this  general  impression,  however,  remained  on  my 
mind,  that  children's  books  were  either  full  of  non 
sense,  like  "hie  diddle  diddle"  in  Mother  Goose,  or 
full  of  something  very  like  lies,  and  those  very  shock 
ing  to  the  mind,  like  Little  Bed  Eiding  Hood.  From 
that  time  my  interest  in  them  was  almost  wholly  lost. 
I  had  read  Puss  in  Boots,  but  that  seemed  to  me 
without  meaning,  unless  it  was  to  teach  us  that  a 
Good  Genius  may  cheat,  lie,  and  steal ;  in  other  words, 
that  in  order  to  show  gratitude  to  a  friend,  we  may 
resort  to  every  kind  of  meanness  and  fraud.  I  never 
liked  cats,  and  to  make  one  of  that  race — sly,  thiev 
ing,  and  bloodthirsty  by  instinct — the  personification 
of  virtue,  inclined  me,  so  far  as  the  story  produced 
any  moral  effect,  to  hate  virtue  itself. 

The  story  of  Blue  Beard  made  a  stronger  and  still 


168  LETTERS — B10CJKA.PH1CAL, 

more  painful  impression  upon  me.  Though  I  knew 
it  to  be  a  fiction,  it  was  still  in  some  sort  a  reality  to 
me.  His  castle,  with  its  hideous  chamber  hung  with 
the  ghastly  corpses  of  his  murdered  wives,  was  more 
a  living  truth  in  my  imagination,  than  any  fact  in 
history  or  geography.  In  spite  of  my  efforts  to  cast 
it  out,  it  remained  with  all  its  horrors — a  dreadful 
burden  upon  my  mind. 

Still  worse  was  the  story  of  Jack  the  Giant-killer. 
He,  too,  was  a  good  genius,  but  of  course — accord 
ing  to  the  taste  of  this  species  of  composition — 
a  great  liar.  One  should  feel  sympathy  with  such  a 
gallant  little  fellow,  especially  in  combating  giants 
like  Blunderbore,  whose  floor  was  covered  with  hu 
man  skulls,  and  whose  daintiest  food  consisted  of 
"men's  hearts,  seasoned  with  pepper  and  vinegar!" 
Surely — such  is  the  moral  of  the  tale — we  must  learn 
to  forgive,  nay,  to  love  and  approve,  wickedness — 
lying,  deception,  and  murder — when  they  are  em 
ployed  for  good  and  beneficent  purposes !  At  least, 
the  weak  may  use  any  weapons  against  the  strong : 
the  little  may  conspire  against  the  great ;  and  in  such 
a  contest,  all  weapons  are  lawful  and  laudable. 

How  far  this  supper  of  horrors  familiarized  my 
own  mind  with  violence,  and  thus  defaced  that  moral 
sense,  which  is  common  in  children — leading  them  to 
prefer  the  good,  the  true,  and  the  beautiful,  if  it  be 
duly  cherished — I  cannot  venture  to  say.  How  far 
this  potent  but  wicked  logic  of  example,  this  argument 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIOAL,  ETC.  169 

of  action — vividly  wrought  into  the  imagination  and 
the  mind — in  favor  of  meanness,  deception,  and  crime, 
served  to  abate  the  natural  love  of  truth  and  honor 
in  mj  bosom,  I  do  not  pretend  to  conjecture.  Doubt 
less,  I  suffered  less,  because  my  taste  was  shocked ; 
still,  the  "  evil  communications"  were  in  my  soul.  Had 
it  not  been  for  the  constant  teaching  of  rectitude,  by 
precept  and  example,  in  the  conduct  of  my  parents, 
I  might,  to  say  the  least,  have  been  seriously  injured. 
In  looking  back,  and  judging  of  the  matter  now,  I 
believe  it  would  certainly  have  been  so.  As  it  was, 
these  things  were  fearful  temptations,  and  I  am.  con 
vinced  that  much  of  the  vice  and  crime  in  the  world 
are  to  be  imputed  to  these  atrocious  books  put  into 
the  hands  of  children,  and  bringing  them  down,  with 
more  or  less  efficiency,  to  their  own  debased  moral 
standard. 

That  such  tales  should  be  invented  and  circulated 
in  a  barbarous  age,  I  can  easily  conceive ;  that  they 
should  even  be  acceptable  to  the  coarse  tastes  and 
rude  feelings  of  society,  where  all  around  is  a  system 
of  wrong,  duplicity,  and  violence,  is  not  a  matter  of 
surprise.  But  that  they  should  be  put  into  the  hands 
of  children,  and  by  Christian  parents,  and  that  too  in 
an  age  of  light  and  refinement — excites  in  me  the 
utmost  wonder. 

The;  common  opinion,  no  doubt,  is,  that  they  are 
at  least  amusing ;  that  at  the  same  time  they  are  too 
improbable  on  the  very  face  to  carry  with  them  any 

VOL.  I.— 8 


170  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

moral  effect.  This  is  a  double  mistake.  The  love 
of  the  horrible,  the  monstrous,  the  grotesque,  is  not 
indigenous  to  the  youthful  mind — unless  it  may  be 
in  certain  anomalous  cases.  There  are  children,  as  I 
have  said,  who  seem  to  be  born  with  a  proclivity  to 
evil.  There  are  others,  who,  from  the  unhappy  in 
fluence  of  malign  example,  seem  to  show  an  early 
development  of  debased  tastes.  But  in  general  the 
child  revolts  at  these  things,  and  it  is  not  till  it  is 
broken  in  by  repetition,  till  it  is  reconciled  by  famil 
iarity,  that  it  begins  to  crave  them.  A  child  loves 
at  once  a  kitten,  a  chicken,  a  doll — the  innocent  sem 
blances  of  itself ;  but  will  usually  fly  into  a  passion 
of  repugnance  at  the  sight  of  any  thing  monstrous  in 
nature  or  art. 

The  idea  that  familiarity  with  crime  is  harmless,  is 
equally  at  variance  with  experience.  The  Bible  is 
full  of  warnings  against  the  deadly  effect  of  bad  ideas 
communicated  by  example.  Common  sense — the  first 
instinct  of  reason — tells  us  not  to  take  children  into 
scenes  of  crime  and  bloodshed,  unless  we  wish  to 
debase  them.  There  is  little  difference,  as  to  moral 
effect  upon  children,  between  things  real  and  things 
imaginary.  All  that  is  strongly  conceived  by  the 
young,  is  reality  to  them.  The  tale  of  Jack  the 
Giant-killer  in  the  book,  is  very  much  the  same  as 
would  be  the  incidents  of  the  story  acted  out  at  the 
theater,  or  the  reality  performed  before  the  eye.  In  all 
these  cases,  it  fills  the  mind  with  evil,  and  commends 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  171 

evil,  by  inevitable  influence.  Is  it  not  leading  chil 
dren  into  fearful  temptation,  to  put  such  works  as 
these  into  their  hands?  It  will  be  understood  that  ] 
am  here  speaking  more  particularly  of  nursery  books 
These,  from  the  impressibility  of  young  children,  and 
from  the  fact  that  the  judgment  is  not  yet  developed 
and  exercises  little  control  over  the  mind — produce 
a  most  powerful  effect.  Yet  it  is  only  for  such  that 
the  books  referred  to  have  been  framed,  as  if,  in  a 
diabolical  spirit  of  mischief,  at  once  to  deprave  the 
taste,  and  degrade  the  intellect  of  childhood. 

At  a  somewhat  later  date — that  is,  when  I  was 
about  twelve  years  old — I  read  Robinson  Crusoe, 
which  greatly  delighted  me.  The  work  had  about  a 
dozen  engravings,  in  which  Crusoe  and  his  man  Fri 
day  were  depicted  somewhat  like  two  black  spiders  : 
nevertheless,  my  imagination  endued  them  with 
charms  equal  to  those  of  Heath's  Book  of  Beauty  in 
after  times.  About  this  period,  I  met  with  Alphonso 
and  Dalinda,  a  translation  of  one  of  Madame  de 
Genlis'  Tales  of  the  Castle.  I  have  never  seen  it 
since,  but  I  judge  by  its  effect  upon  my  imagination, 
that  it  must  be  written  with  great  skill  and  knowl 
edge  of  the  youthful  mind.  The  manner  in  which 
a  series  of  romantic  and  wonderful  incidents  are 
philosophically  explained,  seemed  to  me  exceedingly 
felicitous,  and  certainly  gave  me  my  first  glimpses  ot 
some  of  the  more  curious  marvels  of  Natural  History 
and  Natural  Philosophy. 


172  LETTEKS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

From  this  point  I  made  my  way  into  works  de 
signed  for  adults,  and  now  began  to  read  voyages, 
travels,  and  histories.  Thus  a  new  world  was  within 
my  reach,  though  as  yet  I  did  not  realize  it.  About 
this  time  I  met  with  Hannah  More's  Moral  Keposi- 
tory,  which,  so  far  as  I  recollect,  was  the  first  work 
that  I  read  with  real  enthusiasm.  That  I  devoured. 
The  story  of  the  Shepherd  of  Salisbury  Plain  was  to 
me  only  inferior  to  the  Bible  narrative  of  Joseph  and 
his  brethren.  Twenty  years  after,  I  enjoyed  the 
pleasure,  I  might  almost  say  ecstasy,  of  passing  over 
the  scene  of  this  inimitable  story,  and  of  telling  my 
experience  to  the  author  at  Barley-wood.  It  was  in 
conversation  with  that  amiable  and  gifted  person,  that 
I  first  formed  the  conception  of  the  Parley  Tales — 
the  general  idea  of  which  was  to  make  nursery 
books  reasonable  and  truthful,  and  thus  to  feed  the 
young  mind  upon  things  wholesome  and  pure,  in 
stead  of  things  monstrous,  false,  and  pestilent:  that 
we  should  use  the  same  prudence  in  giving  aliment 
to  the  mind  and  soul,  as  to  the  body ;  and  as  we 
would  not  give  blood  and  poison  as  food  for  the  lat 
ter,  we  should  not  administer  cruelty  and  violence, 
terror  and  impurity,  to  the  other.  In  short,  that  the 
elements  of  nursery  books  should  consist  of  beauty 
instead  of  deformity,  goodness  instead  of  wickedness, 
decency  instead  of  vulgarity. 

So  far  as  I  can  recollect,  the  work  just  alluded  to 
first  gave  me  a  taste  for  reading,  and  awakened  my 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  173 

mind  to  some  comprehension  of  the  amazing  scope 
and  power  of  books.  I  nad  heard  the  Bible  read 
from  beginning  to  end,  and  the  narrative  portions 
had  attracted  my  attention  and  deeply  interested 
me.  I  had  heard  scraps  of  poetry  and  passages  of 
prose,  quoted  and  recited  by  my  mother  and  my 
sisters  older  than  myself  and  who  had  been  well 
educated,  mostly  at  New  Haven.  I  had  heard 
abundance  of  learned  conversation  among  doctors 
of  divinity  and  doctors  of  laws,  who,  with  others, 
visited  my  father's  house ;  and  finally  I  had  heard 
the  disquisitions,  historical,  biblical,  and  philosoph 
ical,  of  our  profound  and  erudite  village  oracle,  Lieu 
tenant  Smith ;  yet  I  do  not  recollect  to  have  discov 
ered,  before  this  time,  that  books  contained  inex 
haustible  sources  of  instruction  and  amusement,  and 
all  within  my  own  reach.  I  had  listened  to  what  I 
heard,  though  often  impatiently,  and  doubtless  I  had 
picked  up  and  pocketed,  here  and  there,  an  idea. 
Such,  however,  had  been  the  course  of  my  life,  or 
such  was  my  disposition,  or  such  the  books  that  had 
fallen  into  my  hands,  that  I  regarded  big  books  as 
tasks,  proper  for  the  learned,  but  not  fit  for  such  as 
me  ;  and  little  books  as  nonsense,  or  worse  than  non 
sense,  worthy  only  of  contempt  or  aversion.  What 
a  real  blessing  would  then  have  been  to  me  the  juve 
nile  works  of  Mrs.  Child,  the  little  histories  of  Agnes 
Strickland,  the  tales  of  Mary  Howitt,  Mrs.  Hoffland, 
and  other  similar  works,  so  familiar  to  children  now. 


174  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

As  to  schoolbooks,  those  I  had  used  had  become 
associated  in  my  memory  with  sitting  three  hours  at 
a  time  upon  hard  oak  benches,  my  legs  all  the  while 
in  such  a  cramped  position  that  I  could  almost  have 
kicked  my  best  friend  by  way  of  relief. 

In  casting  my  mind  backward  over  the  last  thirty 
years — and  comparing  the  past  with  the  present,  duly 
noting  the  amazing  advances  made  in  every  thing 
which  belongs  to  the  comfort,  the  intelligence,  the 
luxury  of  society — there  is  no  point  in  which  these 
are  more  striking  than  in  the  books  for  children  and 
youth.  Let  any  one  who  wishes  to  comprehend  this 
matter,  go  to  such  a  juvenile  bookstore  as  that  of 
C.  S.  Francis,  in  Broadway,  New  York,  and  behold 
the  teeming  shelves — comprising  almost  every  topic 
within  the  range  of  human  knowledge,  treated  in  a 
manner  to  please  the  young  mind,  by  the  use  of  every 
attraction  of  style  and  every  art  of  embellishment — 
and  let  him  remember  that  nineteen  twentieths  of 
these  works  have  come  into  existence  within  the  last 
thirty  years.  He  will  then  see  how  differently  this 
age  estimates  the  importance  of  juvenile  instruction, 
from  any  other  that  has  gone  before  it. 


HISTORICAL,    ANE^DOTICAL,    ETC.  175 


LETTER  XIV. 

The  Clergymen  of  Fairjkld  County — The  Minister's  House  a  Minister'* 
Tavern — Dr.  Riple.y,  of  G-reerf  s-farms — Dr.  Lewis,  of  Horseneck — Dr. 
Burnett,  of  Norwalk — Mr.  Swan— Mr.  Noyes — Mr.  Elliott,  of  Fairfald 
— Mr.  Mitchell,  of  New  Canaan — A  Poet-Deacon — Dr.  Blatchford,  tht 
Clairvoyant — Mr.  Bartlett,  of  Beading — Mr.  Camp,  of  Ridgebury — Mr. 
Smith,  of  Stamford — Mr.  Waterman,  of  Bridgeport,  &c. — Manners  of 
the  Clergy  of  Fairjield  County — Their  Character — Anecdote  of  the  Laugh 
ing  D.  D. — The  Coming  Storm. 

MY  DEAE  C****** 

Before  I  complete  my  narrative,  so  far  as  it  re 
lates  to  Eidgefield,  I  should  state  that  in  the  olden 
time  a  country  minister's  home  was  a  minister's  tav 
ern,  and  therefore  I  saw,  at  different  periods,  most  of 
the  orthodox  or  Congregational  clergymen  belonging 
to  that  part  of  the  State,  at  our  house.  My  father 
frequently  exchanged  with  those  of  the  neighboring 
towns,  and  sometimes  consociations  and  associations 
were  held  at  Ridgefield.  Thus,  men  of  the  clerical 
profession  constituted  a  large  portion  of  the  strangers 
who  visited  us.  I  may  add  that  my  lineage  was 
highly  ministerial  from  an  early  period  down  to  my 
own  time.  The  pulpit  of  Durham,  filled  by  my  pa 
ternal  grandfather,  continued  in  the  same  family  one 
hundred  and  twenty-six  consecutive  years.  A  short 
time  since,  we  reckoned  among  our  relations,  not  go 
ing  beyond  the  degree  of  second  cousin,  more  than  a 
dozen  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  and  all  of  the  same 
creed. 


1  76  LKTfERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

As  to  the  clergy  of  Fairfield  county,  my  boyish 
impressions  of  them  were,  that  they  were  of  the  salt 
of  the  earth — rock-salt,  the  very  crystals  of  Chris 
tianity;  nor  has  a  larger  experience  altered  my 
opinion.  If  I  sometimes  indulge  a  smile  at  the  rec 
ollection  of  particular  traits  of  character,  or  more 
general  points  of  manners  significant  of  the  age,  I 
still  regard  them  with  affection  and  reverence.  Some 
of  them  were  grave  and  portly,  especially  those  who 
bore  the  awe-inspiring  title  of  Doctors  of  Divinity. 
I  cannot  now  recollect  among  them  all  a  single  little 
or  emaciated  D.  D.  At  the  very  head  of  the  list,  in 
my  .imagination,  was  Dr.  Eipley,  of  Green's-farms,  now 
Southport,  I  believe.  He  was  a  large  and  learned  man 
— two  hundred  pounds  avoirdupois  of  solid  divinity. 
He  read  the  Bible  in  the  original  tongues  for  diver 
sion,  and  digested  Hebrew  roots  as  if  they  had  been 
buttered  parsnips.  He  was  withal  a  hale,  hearty  old 
gentleman,  with  a  rich,  ruddy  smile  over  his  face,  be 
speaking  peace  within  and  without.  I  was  once  at 
his  house,  which  commanded  a  fine  view  of  Long 
Island  Sound,  and  particularly  of  Compo  Bay,  which 
was  near  at  hand.  I  remember  that  he  told  me  about 
the  landing  of  the  British  there,  under  Tryon,  in 
April,  1777,  on  their  expedition  against  Danbury — a 
story  in  which  I  took  deep  interest,  for  I  had  already 
heard  a  good  deal  concerning  it  from  Lieut.  Smith. 

Dr.  Lewis,  of  Horseneck,  weighed  less  according  to 
the  steelyards  :  he  had  perhaps  less  Greek  and  Latin 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  177 

in  him,  but  I  have  an  impression  that  he  was  a  man 
even  more  full  of  godliness.  He  was  in  fact  the 
patron  saint  of  my  young  fancy,  and  his  image  still 
seems  before  me.  He  was  of  the  middle  size,  neither 
fat  nor  lean,  stooped  a  little,  and  had  a  thin  face  with 
a  long  nose.  Yet  his  countenance  was  the  very  seat 
of  kindliness,  charity,  and  sanctity.  His  thin,  white 
locks  floated  down  his  cheeks  and  over  his  shoul 
ders  in  apostolic  folds.  His  voice  was  soft,  yet  pene 
trating.  He  had  not,  I  think,  any  prodigious  power 
of  intellect,  but  during  his  preaching  every  ear  was 
intent,  every  heart  open.  The  congregation  sometimes 
nodded,  especially  of  a  hot  summer  Sunday,  even 
beneath  the  thunders  of  Dr.  Eipley ;  nay,  Deacon 
Olmsted  himself,  enthroned  in  the  deacon's  seat,  was 
obliged  now  and  then  to  take  out  his  sprig  of  fennel, 
in  the  very  midst  of  the  doctor's  twelfthlies  and  fif- 
teenthlies  ;  but  nobody  ever  slept  under  the  touching 
and  sympathetic  tones  of  Dr.  Lewis.  The  good  man 
has  long  since  been  translated  to  another  world,  but 
the  perfume  of  his  goodness  still  lingers  amid  the 
churches  which  were  once  impressed  with  his  footsteps. 
Among  the  other  clerical  celebrities  of  this  period 
was  Dr.  Burnett,  of  Norwalk — a  man  of  distinguished 
ability,  but  of  whom  I  have  only  a  faint  remem 
brance.  His  successor,  Mr.  Swan,  was  one  of  the 
most  eloquent  men  of  the  day.  I  shall  never  forget  a 
certain  passage  in  one  of  his  addresses  at  an  evening 
meeting.  He  had  taken  as  a  motto  for  his  discourse 
8* 


178  l.KTTRRS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

— "  Choose  you  tin's  day  whom  ye  will  serve,"  Josh, 
xxiv.  15.  Having  pressed  upon  the  audience  the 
necessity  of  deciding  whether  they  would  serve  God 
or  the  Adversary,  he  adverted  to  an  anecdote  in  an 
cient  history,  in  which  an  ambassador  to  some  foreign 
state — demanding  a  decision  of  the  government  in  a 
question  under  discussion  —  drew  a  line  upon  the 
earth  with  his  staff,  and  said,  "Tell  me — here,  this 
very  hour — now — where  will  you  stand,  on  this  side 
or  that,  for  us  or  against  us  ?  Shall  it  be  peace  or  shall 
it  be  war  ?"  Mr.  Swan  was  a  tall  man,  and  as  he  said 
this,  he  seemed"  to  mark  the  line  upon  the  ground 
with  a  solemn  sweep  of  his  long  arm.  He  then  add 
ed,  addressing  the  audience  in  tones  that  thrilled  and 
awed  every  heart,  "  Tell  me  here,  this  very  hour,  now 
— where  will  you  stand  ?  Where  will  you  stand  to 
night — where  at  the  day  of  judgment — on  this  side 
or  that — for  God  or  against  Him  ?  Shall  it  be  peace 
or  war  ?  peace  forever,  or  war  through  the  measureless 
ages  of  eternity  ?"  I  can  recall  no  eloquence — and 
I  have  heard  the  most  celebrated  orators  of  my  time 
— which  produced  a  more  deep,  fearful,  and  startling 
emotion,  than  this. 

There  was  another  minister  —  the  very  antipode 
of  the  one  I  have  just  described,  and  yet  a  great  and 
good  man  in  his  way — great  and  good  in  the  effect 
of  his  life.  His  name  was  Noyes,  and  he  was  settled 
at  Weston.  He  was  a  person  of  moderate  intellect, 
yet  his  benignant  face  and  kindly  voice  suggested  to 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIGAL,  ETC.  179 

the  imagination  that  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved.  His 
whole  conduct  was  but  a  fulfillment  of  what  his  coun 
tenance  promised.  Mr.  Elliot,  of  Fairfield,  I  do  not 
recollect  personally,  but  I  have  heard  about  his 
preaching  against  the  New  Lights — the  Methodists 
and  revivalists — who  then  began  to  disturb  the  quiet 
of  orthodoxy.  He  asserted  that,  "  as  in  nature  it  is 
the  mizzling,  fizzling  rain,  and  not  the  overwhelm 
ing  torrent,  that  fertilizes  the  fields,  so  in  religion,  it 
is  the  quiet  dew  of  the  Holy  Spirit  that  produces  the 
harvest  of  souls."  I  give  the  story  and  the  words  as 
I  heard  them. 

Mr.  Mitchell,  of  New  Canaan,  was  a  man  of  ability 
and  influence,  but  I  remember  more  of  his  successors 
than  of  him.  There  being  a  vacancy  in  the  parish,  the 
people  tried  several  candidates — one  named  Hough, 
one  named  Hyde,  &c. ;  but  none  of  them  suited  every 
body.  At  last  came  Mr.  Bonney.  "  Well,"  said  one 
of  the  deacons  as  if  by  inspiration — 

K  We  have  now  had  Hough  and  Hyde, 
Let  us  take  Bonney  and  ride." 

This  from  the  lips  of  a  deacon  sounded  like  proph 
ecy,  and  so  Mr.  Bonney  was  duly  called  and  installed. 

Mr.  Fisher,  of  Wilton,  was  of  comely  and  imposing 
presence,  and  withal  an  able  man.  As  was  proper, 
he  became  a  D.  D.  Mr.  Dwight,  of  Greenfield  Hill, 
was  afterward  the  renowned  President  of  Yale  Col 
lege.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of  him  again. 


JSO  LETTKRS BIOGRAPHICAJ,, 

Mr.  Humphries,  of  Fairfield,  became  President  of 
Amherst  College,  and  is  now  living  at  Pittsfield,  en 
joying  at  the  age  of  seventy-seven,  the  full  vigor  of 
manhood  —  with  an  enviable  reputation  as  a  ripe 
scholar,  an  eloquent  preacher,  a  good  and  great  man, 
combining  the  dignity  of  the  divine  with  the  amiable 
and  attractive  qualities  of  the  friend,  the  citizen,  and 
the  neighbor. 

Dr.  Blatchford,  of  Bridgeport,  removed  early  to 
Waterford,  near  Troy,  N.  Y.,  and  I  can  only  remem 
ber  to  have  seen  him;  his  personal  appearance  has 
vanished  from  my  mind.  I  recollect,  however,  that 
he  had  a  horror  of  cats  and  kittens,  and  such  was  its 
intensity  as  to  endue  him  with  clairvoyance,  so  that 
he  could  easily  detect  one  of  these  creatures  in  the 
room,  though  it  might  be  out  of  sight  or  even  con 
fined  in  a  closet.  Frequent  attempts  were  made 
to  deceive  him,  but  without  success.  His  instinct 
was  infallible.  When  he  was  seen  coming,  the  first 
thing  attended  to  by  my  mother  was  to  shut  up  the 
whole  purring  family,  and  they  were  kept  under 
lock  and  key  till  the  good  doctor  had  departed.  Once 
upon  a  time,  while  dining  with  a  friend,  he  suddenly 
threw  down  his  knife  and  fork,  his  face  being  pale 
with  horror. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  ejaculated  his  host,  in  great 
excitement. 

"  It  is  a  cat !"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"  A  cat  ?"  was  the  thrilling  reply.     "  Impossible  : 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTIC AL,    ETC.  181 

we  were  particular  to  shut  up  the  cat  and  kittens  as 
soon  as  you  came." 

"I  say  there's  a  cat  in  the  room  I"  said  the  doctor, 
with  fearful  emphasis. 

A  hurry-scurry  ensued,  and  after  a  long  search,  a 
kitten  was  found  slumbering  in  the  cradle,  under  the 
clothes,  and  snugged  down  beside  the  baby  ! 

There  were,  furthermore,  Mr.  Bartlett,  of  Heading, 
an  animated  and  learned  preacher — now  a  hale  and 
hearty  man  at  the  age  of  ninety-two  ;  Mr.  Camp,  of 
Ridgebury,  of  a  feeble  body  but  powerful  mind  ;  Mr. 
Smith,  of  Stamford,  a  dignified  gentleman  of  the  old 
school,  and  married  to  the  sister  of  John  Cotton 
Smith,  afterward  Governor  of  the  State  ;  Mr.  "Water 
man,  of  Bridgeport,  author  of  a  clever  Life  of  Calvin. 

From  these  hasty  notes,  you  will  see  that  the 
clergy  of  that  day  in  Fairfield  county  were  a  very 
able  set  of  men,  and  worthy  of  being  duly  and  hon 
orably  chronicled  in  these  mementoes  of  the  past. 
I  speak  of  the  era  of  1800,  yet  including  a  few  sub 
sequent  years.  A  half  century  before,  a  wig  with  a 
black  coat  meant  D.  D. ;  and  D.  D.  usually  meant 
wig  and  black  coat :  but  that  dynasty  had  passed. 
Breeches  and  white-top  boots — white  meaning  but 
ternut  color — were,  however,  still  clerical. 

These  gentlemen  whom  I  have  described,  traveled 
on  horseback,  and  were  always  well  mounted ;  some 
of  them  were  amateurs  in  horseflesh :  I  have  al 
ready  had  occasion  to  notice  the  points  of  Dr.  Rip- 


182  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ley's  beast.  In  manners  they  were  polite,  and  some 
what  assiduous  in  their  stately  courtesies.  They 
spoke  with  authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes.  Their 
preaching  was  grave  in  manner,  and  in  matter  elab 
orately  dovetailed  with  Scripture.  The  people  drank 
hard  cider,  and  relished  sound  doctrine :  it  was  not 
till  nearly  half  a  century  afterward  that — imbibing 
soda-water,  champagne,  and  other  gaseous  beverages 
— they  required  pyrotechnics  in  the  pulpit.  A  soul 
to  reach  heaven  must  then  have  the  passport  of 
Saybrook ;  and  in  point  of  fact,  orthodoxy  was  so 
tempered  with  charity,  that  nearly  all  who  died,  re 
ceived  it. 

If  the  creed  of  that  day  was  severe  and  bespoke 
the  agonies  of  its  Puritan  origin,  it  still  allowed  large 
range  for  temporalities  and  humanities.  The  minis 
ter  of  the  Gospel  was  a  father,  neighbor,  friend,  cit 
izen — a  man  in  a  large  and  generous  sense.  Man 
liness  meant  godliness,  and  godliness  manliness.  He 
spoke  truth,  and  acted  righteousness.  He  was  in 
dependent  in  his  circumstances,  for  a  parish  settle 
ment  was  like  marriage,  for  better  or  for  worse  ;  and 
what  God  had  joined,  man  could  not  lightly  put 
asunder.  The  common  opinion  now  is,  that  the 
judges  of  temporal  tribunals  should  be  placed  be 
yond  the  seductions  of  dependence;  the  people  of 
those  days  thought  that  in  matters  relating  to  eter 
nity,  this  rule  was  at  least  equally  important.  The 
clergymen  were  in  some  sort  magistrates — not  tech- 


TITSTOHIOAT,,  ANT.CIXrTTCAL,  KTC.  183 

nically,  but  being  generally  the  best  educated  per 
sons — especially  in  country  towns — they  exercised  a 
large  influence,  as  well  by  the  force  of  authority,  tra 
ditionally  allowed  to  their  positions,  as  by  their  su 
perior  intelligence.  They  were  sometimes  consulted 
by  their  parishioners  in  matters  of  law*  as  well  as 
gospel,  often  made  out  deeds,  settled  disputes  be 
tween  neighbors  and  neighborhoods,  gave  advice  in 
difficult  and  doubtful  questions  of  business,  and  im 
parted  intelligence  upon  matters  of  history,  geogra- 
'phy,  and  politics. 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  they  were  counsellors  in 
religious  matters — in  the  dark  and  anxious  periods 
of  the  spirit — in  times  of  sickness,  at  the  approach 
of  death.  They  sanctified  the  wedding,  not  refusing 
afterward  to  countenance  the  festivity  which  natural 
ly  ensued.  They  administered  baptism,  but  only  upon 
adults  who  made  a  profession,  or  upon  the  children 
of  professors.  I  may  add  that  despite  their  divinity, 
they  were  sociable  in  their  manners  and  intercourse. 
The  state  of  the  Church  was  no  doubt  first  in  their 
minds  ;  but  ample  room  was  left  for  the  good  things 
of  life.  Those  who  came  to  our  house  examined  my 
brother  in  his  Greek  and  Latin,  and  I  went  out  be- 

*  Kev.  Thomas  Hawley,  from  Northampton,  was  settled  in  the  first 
society  in  Ridgefield  in  the  year  1714,  and  was  their  first  pastor,  and  con 
tinued  till  his  death  in  1739.  He  was  a  man  of  great  frankness  and  so 
ciability,  and  an  excellent  scholar.  He  was  very  useful  to  the  town,  not 
only  a*  a  minister,  but  in  a  civil  capacity,  serving  them  as  their  town- 
clerk,  and  doing  all  their  writing  business  till  his  decease. — Manuscript 
History  of  R'i Airfield,  by  S.  G . 


184  LETTKR8 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

hind  the  barn  to  gather  tansey  for  their  morning  bit 
ters.  They  dearly  loved  a  joke,  and  relished  anec 
dotes,  especially  if  they  bore  a  little  hard  upon  the 
cloth.  I  remember  some  of  them  at  which  I  have 
heard  Dr.  Ripley  almost  crack  his  sides,  and  seen 
even  the  saintly  Dr.  Lewis  run  over  at  the  eyes  with 
laughing.  Shall  I  give  you  a  specimen  ?  The  fol 
lowing  will  suffice,  though  I  can  not  recollect  who  it 
was  that  told  it. 

Once   upon   a   time  there  was  a  clergyman — the 

Eev.  Dr.  T of  H  ... . — a  man  of  high  character, 

and  distinguished  for  his  dignity  of  manner.  But 
it  was  remarked  that  frequently  as  he  was  ascending 
the  pulpit  stairs  he  would  smile,  and  sometimes  al 
most  titter,  as  if  beset  by  an  uncontrollable  desire  to 
laugh.  This  excited  remark,  and  at  last  scandal 
Finally,  it  was  thought  necessary  for  some  of  his 
clerical  friends,  at  a  meeting  of  the  association,  to 
bring  up  the  matter  for  consideration. 

The  case  was  stated — the  Eev.  Dr.  T being 

present.  "  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  the  fact 
charged  against  me  is  true,  but  I  beg  you  to  permit 
me  to  offer  an  explanation.  A  few  months  after  I 
was  licensed  to  preach,  I  was  in  a  country  town,  and 
on  a  Sabbath  morning  was  about  to  enter  upon  the 
services  of  the  church.  Back  of  the  pulpit  was  a 
window,  which  looked  out  upon  a  field  of  clover,  then 
in  full  bloom,  for  it  was  summer.  As  I  rose  to  com 
mence  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  I  cast  a  glance 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  185 

into  the  field,  and  there  I  saw  a  man  performing  the 
most  extraordinary  evolutions — -jumping,  whirling, 
slapping  in  all  directions,  and  with  a  ferocious  agony 
of  exertion.  At  first  I  thought  he  was  mad ;  but 
suddenly  the  truth  burst  upon  me — he  had  buttoned 
up  a  bumblebee  in  his  pantaloons !  I  am  constitu 
tionally  nervous,  gentlemen,  and  the  shock  of  this 
scene  upon  my  risible  sensibilities  was  so  great,  that 
I  could  hardly  get  through  the  services.  Several 
times  I  was  upon  the  point  of  bursting  into  a  laugh. 
Even  to  this  day,  the  remembrance  of  this  scene — 
through  the  temptation  of  the  devil  —  often  comes 
upon  me  as  I  am  ascending  the  pulpit.  This,  I  admit, 
is  a  weakness,  but  I  trust  it  will  rather  excite  your 
sympathy  and  your  prayers  than  your  reproaches." 

Such  were  the  orthodox — that  is,  the  Congrega 
tional —  clergy  of  Fairfield  county,*  doubtless  to  some 
extent  examples  of  their  brethren  throughout  New 
England,  at  the  period  of  which  I  speak.  The  reli 
gious  platform  still  stood  planked  to  the  State.  The 
law  still  gave  preference  to  orthodoxy,  as  it  had  done 
from  the  beginning.  The  time  had  not  yet  arrived 
when  Methodism,  Episcopacy,  Democracy,  should 
combine  with  radicalism  to  overturn  the  system  which 
the  fathers  had  built.  The  storm  was  brewing,  but 
as  yet  it  was  scarcely  noticed  even  by  those  who  were 
soon  to  be  overwhelmed  by  it. 

*  See  note  IV.,  p.  589. 


186  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER    XV, 

Ideas  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers — Progress  of  Toleration — Episcopacy — Sigh- 
op  Sealntry — Dr.  Duche — Methodism  in  America — In  Connecticut — An 
ecdotes — Lorenzo  Dow — The  Wolf  in  my  Father's  Fold. 

MY   DEAR   C****** 

I  have  intimated  that,  at  the  period  of  which  I 
am  writing,  there  was  a  storm  gathering  which  was 
speedily  to  sweep  away  the  last  vestige  of  that  sys 
tem  of  legal  and  statutory  privilege  which  the  Con 
gregational  clergy  had  enjoyed  in  Connecticut,  from 
the  foundation  of  the  colony.  The  government  at 
the  beginning  was  a  kind  of  theocracy,  in  which  God 
was  considered  as  the  active  and  positive  ruler,  of 
whom  the  men  appointed  to  office  were  the  agents. 
This  impression  pervaded  the  minds  of  the  first  set 
tlers  of  New  England.  These  were  all  Independents 
in  religion,  who  had  been  persecuted  at  home,  and 
had  come  here  to  enjoy  their  peculiar  worship  with 
out  molestation  This  was  in  fact  the  fundamental 
idea  of  the  Puritan  Fathers. 

It  was  therefore  not  only  with  amazement,  but  in 
dignation,  that  they  found,  as  the  population  in 
creased,  that  Quakers,  Baptists,  and  other  sectarians, 
came  among  them,  and  demanded  toleration  of  their 
peculiar  notions.  In  vain  did  they  seek  to  crush  out 
these  disturbers  of  the  public  peace.  Persecution 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  187 

only  made  them  thrive :  the  trampling  heel  of  op 
pression  benefited  them,  as  hoeing  among  weeds  ren 
ders  them  more  rank  and  pestiferous — inasmuch  as 
the  roots  strike  deeper,  and  the  multiplied  and  invig 
orated  seed  are  scattered  over  a  constantly  widening 
surface. 

To  the  oppressed  Puritans  in  England,  toleration 
of  their  peculiar  faith  was  an  obvious  idea.  Their 
circumstances  suggested  it  as  a  right,  and  denial  of  it 
as  a  sin.  They  emigrated  to  the  New  World,  carry 
ing  this  conviction  with  them.  But  universal  liberty 
of  worship  was  not  yet  conceived  :  that  was  reserved 
for  those  Baptists,  Quakers,  and  others,  who,  from 
their  position,  had  begun  to  see  the  light,  though  it 
was  even  to  them  but  dimly  revealed.  They  sought 
rather,  each  sect  for  itself,  the  tolerance  of  their  wor 
ship,  than  general  toleration  as  the  right  of  man. 
Roger  Williams,  indeed,  seems  to  have  made  this  dis 
covery,  yet  at  first  he  advocated  it  rather  in  the 
spirit  of  intolerance. 

As  time  advanced,  the  malcontents  increased,  and 
although  orthodoxy  contended  at  every  point,  it  was 
compelled  to  yield  inch  by  inch,  until,  at  the  period 
around  which  my  narrative  revolveSj  only  ^a  single 
remnant  of  its  ancient  privileges  remained  in  the  stat 
ute  book  of  Connecticut.  That  consisted  in  a  law 
which  compelled  every  man,  on  reaching  his  major 
ity,  to  pay  a  tax  to  the  Congregational  society  in 
whose  bounds  he  lived,  unless  he  lodged  a  certificate 


188  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

with  its  clerk  that  he  belonged  to  some  other  reli 
gious  persuasion. 

This  became  the  point  of  attack,  in  which  all  the 
dissenting  sects  in  religion,  and  all  the  opposers  in 
politics,  united.  But  the  time  for  this  union,  as 
stated  in  a  preceding  letter,  had  not  yet  arrived.  The 
heterogeneous  particles  were  silently  moving  to  their 
coalescence  and  their  crystallization,  forming  in  the 
end  the  party  which  took  the  watchword  of  TOLERA 
TION,  and  which  gained  the  ascendency  in  1817  ;  but 
as  yet,  the  keenest  sagacity  had  not  seen.  -4,he  coming 
event — which  was  nevertheless  near  at  hand. 

Up  to  this  time — the  early  part  of  this  century — 
orthodoxy  seemed,  on  the  surface,  to  stand  almost 
unquestioned  in  Connecticut.*  Unitarianism  had  be 
gun  in  Boston,  but  had  not  made  any  noticeable  con- 

*  After  this  work  was  begun  and  considerably  advanced,  I  happened 
to  discover  in  the  Historical  Library  of  the  Atheneum  at  Hartford,  a 
manuscript  account  of  Eidgefield — historical,  descriptive,  ecclesiastical, 
economical,  &c. — prepared  by  my  father  in  1800,  upon  a  request  by  the 
State  authorities.  Among  other  remarks  of  a  general  nature,  I  rind  the 
following  : 

"About  the  time  that  Paine's  Age  of  Reason  presented  itself  to  view, 
like  Milton's  Description  of  Death — '  Black  it  stood  as  night,  fierce  as 
ten  furies,  terrible  as  hell' — the  horror  of  its  features  disgusted  the 
people  to  such  a  degree  that  it  has  not  yet  had  an  advocate  in  this  town." 

"There  have  been,  in  years  past,  a  number  of  people  who  called 
themselves*  Baptists,  who  showed  much  zeal  in  religion,  and  met  in 
private  houses  for  worship  :  at  the  present  day  they  are  much  on  the 
decline." 

"  A  few  have  joined  the  Methodists,  whose  preachers,  though  very 
zealous,  have  made  little  impression  on  the  minds  of  the  people  of  thia 
town."  A  little  after  this  the  Methodists  increased  in  the  manner  I  have 
related. 

"  Almost  all  the  people  attend  public  worship  with  the  Congregation- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  189 

quests  in  the  land  of  "  steady  habits."  Methodism — 
destined  soon  to  sweep  over  the  State — only  glim 
mered  faintly,  as  a  kind  of  heat-lightning,  in  the  dis 
tant  horizon,  indicating  the  electricity  that  was  in  the 
atmosphere.  Universalism,  in  the  form  of  Restora- 
tionism,  was  doubtless  planted  in  many  minds,  for  the 
eloquent  and  enthusiastic  Murray*  had  been  preach 
ing  in  the  country.  As  yet,  however,  there  were  few 
organized  societies  of  that  persuasion — now  so  numer 
ous — in  the  Union. 

Episcopacy  had  been  introduced  at  an  early  date. 
Indeed,  Connecticut  had  the  honor  of  receiving  the 


alists  or  Episcopalians,  and  there  is  and  has  been,  for  a  long  time  past, 
the  utmost  harmony  and  friendship  prevailing  between  the  several  de 
nominations  of  Christians  here.  They  frequently  worship  together,  and 
thus  prove  the  efficacy  of  that  Spirit  whose  leading  characteristic  is 
charity." 

*  John  Murray,  the  first  Universalist  minister  in  Boston,  was  an  Eng 
lishman,  born  about  1741.  He  became  a  preacher,  and  was  at  first  a 
Calvinist,  then  a  Wesleyan,  then  a  follower  of  Whitfield.  Afterward  he 
went  to  London,  and  there  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  dissipation.  In 
1770,  being  in  a  state  of  poverty,  he  came  to  America,  where  he  preach 
ed,  and  by  his  eloquence  soon  acquired  a  high  degree  of  popularity. 
At  one  time  (1775)  he  was  chaplain  to  a  regiment  in  Rhode  Island.  Af 
ter  preaching  with  success  in  various  places,  he  was  settled,  in  1785,  in 
Boston,  where  he  continued  till  his  death  in  1815.  He,  as  well  as  Win 
chester — a  Uuiversalist  of  great  ability,  and  who,  with  Hosea  Ballou, 
may  be  considered  as  the  founder  of  modern  Universalism  in  this  coun 
try — was  a  Trinitarian  ;  but  his  main  doctrine  was,  that,  "  although  sin 
ners  would  rise  to  the  resurrection  of  damnation,  and  at  the  judgment- 
day  would  call  on  the  rocks  to  hide  them  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb, 
yet  that  after  the  judgment,  the  punishment  was  fulfilled,  and  the  dam 
nation  ended."  He  believed  that  the  devil  and  his  angels  only  would  be 
placed  at  the  left  hand  of  Christ,  like  the  goats,  and  that  all  mankind 
would  be  placed  at  his  right.  Ballou,  Balfour,  and  other  Universaliste 
of  the  modern  sect,  maintain  that  there  will  bn  no  judgmant-day  and  no 
future  punishment. 


190  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

first  ordained  bishop  of  the  Episcopal  Church  in 
America,  thus  anticipating  even  Virginia,  to  whom 
the  Church  of  England  was  a  mother  church  from 
the  beginning.  This  was  Bishop  Seabury,*  who  was 
consecrated  in  the  year  1784,  and  established  at  New 
London. 

I  have  heard  of  him  a  well-authenticated  anecdote, 
which  is  very  suggestive.  On  his  arrival  from  Eng 
land,  whither  he  had  been  to  acquire  his  high  eccle 
siastical  honors,  there  was  a  general  curiosity  to  see 
him  and  hear  him  preach,  especially  in  Connecticut- 
al though  the  mass  of  the  people,  being  Congregation- 


*  Samuel  Seabury,  D.  D.,  was  a  native  of  Groton,  Conn.,  and  was  born 
in  1728.  He  graduated  at  Yale  College,  and  then  went  to  Scotland,  to 
study  medicine.  He  was  there,  however,  ordained,  and  coming  back  to 
America,  was  settled  at  New  Brunswick,  New  Jersey,  as  the  missionary 
of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel.  Having  been  stationed 
for  a  time  at  Jamaica,  in  the  West  Indies,  he  returned,  and  was  settled 
at  West  Chester.  Here  he  wrote  and  published  several  pamphlets  in 
favor  of  the  Crown,  and  was  consequently  seized  by  a  party  of  soldiers, 
and  for  a  time  imprisoned  at  New  Haven.  When  New  York  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  British,  he  joined  them  there,  and  became  chaplain  to 
Fanning's  tory  regiment.  After  the  peace,  having  been  elected  bishop 
by  the  Episcopal  clergy  of  Connecticut,  he  went  to  England,  and  applied 
to  the  Archbishop  of  York  for  consecration.  This  could  not  be  grant 
ed,  as  an  indispensable  condition  to  consecration  was,  by  law,  an  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  crown.  After  nearly  a  year  of  fruitless  effort*  to  obtain 
his  object  in  England,  he  made  application  to  the  bishops  of  Scotland, 
by  whom  he  was  consecrated  in  1784.  He  then  returned,  and  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  his  office,  making  New  London  his  residence.  Ha 
was  an  able  man,  and  exercised  a  beneficial  influence  in  establishing 
and  extending  the  Episcopal  Church,  not  only  in  Connecticut,  but  in 
the  country  generally.  He  was  a  worthy  predecessor  of  other  bishops 
of  Connecticut — Jarvis  and  Brownell — who  have  not  only  done  honor  to 
the  Church  over  which  they  presided,  but  have  contributed  to  swell  the 
list  of  scholars  and  divines  which  adorn  our  literature  and  our  ecclesi- 
astioal  history. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  191 

alists,  and  knowing  that  he  had  been  an  active  and 
conspicuous  tory  in  the  Revolution,  were  strongly 
prejudiced  against  him.  In  their  imaginations,  a 
bishop  who  preferred  monarchy  to  a  republic,  and 
who  was  called  "  my  lord  bishop,"  rode  in  a  coach,* 
and  appeared  in  swelling  robes,  was  something  ex 
ceedingly  formidable,  if  not  dangerous,  to  Church 
and  State. 

When  therefore  he  came  to  New  Haven  to  preach, 
about  this  time — that  is,  soon  after  he  had  returned 
with  his  prelatic  honors — the  church  was  crowded 
to  excess.  Many  who  tried  to  get  in  were  necessa 
rily  excluded.  When  the  service  was  over,  a  man 
of  the  middle  class  met  one  of  his  friends  at  the  door, 
who  was  unable  to  obtain  admittance  : 

"  Well,  did  you  see  him  ?"  said  the  latter. 

"  Oh  yes,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  did  he  preach  ?" 

"  Oh  yes." 

"And  was  he  as  proud  as  Lucifer?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it :  why  he  preached  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  !" 

There  was  a  considerable  body  of  Episcopalians 
in  the  State,  though  chiefly  confined  to  the  larger 
towns.  The  professors  of  this  religion  throughout 

*  It  is  said  that  on  one  occasion  he  arrived  at  Yale  College  during 
the  Commencement  exercises,  in  his  carriage,  and  a  messenger  was  sent 
in  to  inquire  if  there  was  a  seat  for  Bishop  Seabury.  Dr.  Dwight,  the 
President,  sent  back  word  that  there  were  some  two  hundred  bishops 
present,  and  he  should  be  very  happy  to  give  him  a  place  among  them. 


192  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

the  Union,  but  more  especially  in  New  England,  .had 
been  charged  with  being  unfriendly  to  the  Revolution, 
and  it  is  known  that  a  considerable  portion  of  them 
were  avowed  tones  during  that  painful  struggle.  Not 
only  was  Seabury  a  tory,  but  even  Dr.  Duche,  who 
had  been  chaplain  to  the  first  Congress,  and  for  a  time 
was  a  zealous  friend  of  liberty,  fell  from  grace,  and 
upon  the  occupation  of  Philadelphia  by  the  British, 
joined  them,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Washington,  call 
ing  upon  him  to  give  up  the  ungodly  cause  in  which 
he  was  engaged. 

The  Episcopalians  had  indeed  one  tie  more  than 
other  men  to  the  "  Old  Country,"  and  that  was  a  pow 
erful  one.  England  was  not  only  their  mother  in 
things  secular  but  in  things  sacred,  the  sovereign  be 
ing  the  head  of  that  institution  which  to  them  was 
the  Ark  of  the  Covenant.  Rebellion  to  the  king  was 
therefore  a  sort  of  sacrilege.  And  besides,  the  mass 
of  the  rebels  were  Puritans,  Presbyterians,  Indepen 
dents,  who  rather  repelled  than  invited  sympathy  and 
co-operation.  It  was  more  natural  therefore,  for  the 
members  of  the  English  Church  in  America  to  take 
part  with  the  king  and  against  the  Revolution,  than 
for  others. 

No  doubt  the  charge  of  want  of  patriotism  was 
exaggerated ;  and  as  to  Virginia,  where  Episcopacy 
was  the  dominant  religion,  it  seems  to  have  had  less 
foundation.  But  at  all  events,  this  sect  was  not  only 
repugnant  to  the  people  of  New  England,  for  the  rea- 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  193 

son  assigned,  but  also  on  account  of  what  they  con 
ceived  to  be  its  tone  and  aspect  of  aristocracy.  Its 
progress,  therefore,  was,  of  course,  slow  in  that  quar 
ter,  and  it  may  be  remarked  that  it  did  not  take  a 
strong  hold  till,  as  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church 
in  the  United  States,  it  was  separated  from  the  Eng 
lish  Church,  and  became,  as  it  now  is,  an  American 
establishment,  wholly  independent  in  its  government 
and  organization,  though  the  same  in  doctrine  as  its 
transatlantic  original. 

At  the  period  of  which  I  am  speaking — from  the 
year  1800  to  1810 — the  relative  number  of  Episcopa 
lians  in  Connecticut  was  in  respect  to  the  orthodox, 
probably  about  one  to  three  or  four.  In  Kidgefield, 
there  was  a  small  brown  edifice,  which  was  called 
the  "  Episcopal  Church,"  though  sometimes,  by  way 
of  ridicule,  the  "  Episcopal  Barn."  The  sarcasm  may 
be  forgiven,  for  in  those  days  the  Episcopalians  arro 
gated  the  word  church  as  their  exclusive  property, 
just  as  the  Catholics  claim  it  now.  The  Congrega- 
tionalists,  according  to  their  vocabulary,  only  held 
meetings,  and  their  places  of  worship  were  nothing  but 
meeting-houses.  It  is  not  till  within  the  last  ten  years 
that  the  word  church  has  been  popularly  applied  to 
all  places  of  worship. 

The  Episcopal  church  in  Bidgefield,  just  mentioned, 
was  situated  on  the  main  street,  nearly  opposite  the 
Up-town  school.  Some  years  before,  Dr.  Perry  had 

been   installed  there,  but  he  began  to  preach  his  own, 
VOL.  I.— 9 


194  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

opinions,  and  finding  himself  in  danger  of  being  ex 
pelled,  he  abdicated,  and  became  a  physician — and  a 
very  eminent  one.  At  length  it  became  vacant,  but  in 
order  to  keep  the  holy  fire  alive,  about  once  or  twice 
a  year  it  was  opened,  and  service  was  held  there.  On 
these  occasions  the  people  flocked  to  see  and  hear  the 
strange  ceremonies,  generally  from  curiosity,  though 
perhaps  there  were  a  dozen  persons  of  this  persua 
sion.  At  the  time  of  one  of  these  performances,  Am- 
by  Benedict,  the  revolving  shoemaker,  was  engaged 
at  our  house,  and  he  went  to  church — though,  I  be 
lieve,  he  was  warned  against  it  by  some  members  of 
our  household.  On  Monday  morning,  when  he  re 
turned,  we  asked  him  about  it — how  he  liked  it,  and 
what  he  thought  of  it. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "there's  too  many  apolpgies  for 
me :  it's  all  the  while  getting  up  and  sitting  down, 
and  talking  out  loud.  Why — if  you'll  believe  it — 
there  were  three  or  four  persons  who  kept  mocking 
the  parson,  and  saying  '  awmen !'  till  I  was  rael 
'shamed  on  'em !" 

For  some  years  subsequent  to  this  period,  the  Epis 
copal  church  of  Kidgefield  remained  only  as  a  mon 
ument  of  waste  and  decay,  but  at  last  it  revived,  and 
is  now  in  a  flourishing  condition,  as  indicated  by  a 
handsome  edifice,  erected  nearly  on  the  site  of  the 
old  structure.  This  revival  is  in  harmony  with  the 
general  increase  and  progress  of  Episcopacy  through 
out  the  United  States. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  195 

Methodism,  which  had  swept  over  England,  came 
at  last  to  America.  Its  success  in  both  countries 
arose  from  several  causes.  The  Anglo-Saxon  race, 
from  time  immemorial,  have  shown  a  tendency  to 
deep  and  anxious  religious  thoughts  and  exercises.* 
It  was  this  national  trait  which  gave  such  an  impulse 
to  Christianity  on  its  first  introduction  into  Great 
Britain  ;  it  was  this  which,  a  few  centuries  later,  en 
abled  the  different  orders  of  friars,  who  went  from 
town  to  town  preaching  spiritualism  with  a  vehement 
and  popular  eloquence,  to  rouse  the  people  into  en 
thusiasm,  and  sow  deep  and  wide  the  seeds  of  their 
doctrines.  When  the  teaching  of  religion  had  been 
organized  into  a  system  and  settled  by  authority, 
there  were  constantly  rising  up  men  deeply  impressed 
with  the  importance  of  religious  truth,  and  earnest 
in  the  desire  to  please  God,  and  make  their  own 
"  calling  and  election  sure." 

Hence  arose,  at  one  time,  the  Lollards,  at  another 
the  Gospellers,  and  finally  the  Puritans,  who  over 
turned  the  government,  and  brought  about  what  is 
called  the  Keformation.  In  due  time,  these  became 
divided  into  various  sects,  and  in  the  last  century, 
they,  as  well  as  the  established  church,  seemed  to 
have  declined  in  religious  spirit  and  fervor.  The 
characteristic  elements  of  the  national  character, 
though  long  suppressed,  at  last  burst  forth.  Whit- 

*  See  Penny  Cyclopedia,  article  Methodism. 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

field,  by  his  fiery  eloquence,  first  ignited  the  spark, 
and  disclosed  the  deep  and  glowing  emotions  which 
were  kindling  in  the  bosom  of  society.  It  was  re 
served,  however,  for  Wesley,  to  give  them  full  expres 
sion,  and  to  combine  into  a  permanent  form,  under 
the  name  of  METHODISM,  a  church  which  should  em 
body  and  perpetuate  a  new  and  startling  develop 
ment  of  religious  feeling  and  experience. 

The  great  characteristic  of  Methodism,  at  the  out 
set,  aside  from  its  spiritual  fervor,  was,  in  the  first 
place,  that  it  addressed  itself  to  the  lower  classes,  and 
in  the  next,  that  it  was  chiefly  propagated  by  illiter 
ate  preachers.  Southey,  in  his  Life  of  Wesley,  gives 
us  some  amusing  anecdotes,  illustrative  of  this  latter 
circumstance.  Among  these  he  describes  a  noted 
itinerant  declaimer,  who,  being  unable  to  read,  em 
ployed  his  mother  for  that  purpose.  u  She  reads  the 
text,"  said  the  orator,  "  and  I  'splains  and  'splounds." 
It  was,  in  fact,  the  doctrine  of  these  people  at  that 
day,  which  was  also  held  by  the  early  Baptists,  that 
human  learning  is  rather  a  hindrance  and  a  snare  to 
the  preacher :  that  spiritual  gifts  and  grace  are  indeed 
the  only  requisites.  I  remember  to  have  heard  an 
anecdote,  applicable  to  this  period,  which  is  in  point. 

In  one  of  his  discourses,  a  gifted  Poundtext,  some 
where  in  Connecticut,  addressed  his  audience  in  this 
wise  :  "  What  I  insist  upon,  my  brethren  and  sisters, 
is  this:  larnin  isn't  religion,  and  eddication  don't 
give  a  man  the  power  of  the  Spirit.  It  is  grace  and 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  197 

gifts  that  furnish  the  rael  live  coals  from  off  the 
altar.  St.  Peter  was  a  fisherman — do  you  think  he 
ever  went  to  Yale  College  ?  Yet  he  was  the  rock 
upon  which  Christ  built  his  Church.  No,  no,  be 
loved  brethren  and  sisters.  When  the  Lord  wanted 
to  blow  down  the  walls  of  Jericho,  he  didn't  take  a 
brass  trumpet,  or  a  polished  French  horn  :  no  such 
thing  ;  he  took  a  ram's  horn — a  plain,  natural  ram's 
horn — just  as  it  grew.  And  so,  when  he  wants  to 
blow  down  the  walls  of  the  spiritual  Jericho,  my 
beloved  brethren  and  sisters,  he  don't  take  one  of  your 
smooth,  polite,  college  larnt  gentlemen,  but  a  plain, 
natural  ram's-horn  sort  of  a  man  like  me." 

Thus,  Methodism  found  its  first  impulse  in  a  de 
velopment  of  the  inherent  religious  elements  of  the 
English  character,  rendered  more  explosive  by  long 
compression.  It  unquestionably  derived  aid  in  its 
beginning,  also,  from  what  was  its  reproach  with  its 
enemies — the  use  of  illiterate  propagandists — for  it 
must  be  remembered  that  Methodism  did  not  ad 
dress  itself  to  high  places,  but  to  the  million.  Many 
of  its  preachers  possessed  great  natural  eloquence, 
and  their  defects  of  grammar  and  rhetoric  rather 
pleased  than  offended  the  rude  audiences  to  whom 
they  spoke.  In  recent  times,  political  leaders,  and 
promoters  of  various  public  objects,  have  found  it 
convenient  to  take  a  hint  from  this  portion  of  his 
tory. 

It  must  be  stated,  furthermore,  that  the  new  sect 


198 


LETTERS  — BIOGRAPHICAL 


derived  a  sort  of  epidemic  power  from  nervous  or 
mesmeric  phenomena  which  the  ignorant  deemed  mi 
raculous,  and  therefore  divine.  In  the  midst  of  ago 
nizing  prayers  and  preachings,  individuals  would  fall 
down  as  in  a  swoon.  These  were  immediately  sur 
rounded  with  persons,  calling  in  impassioned  tones 
upon  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  if  there  personally  present, 
to  wash  out  their  sins,  and  clothe  them  in  the  white 
robes  of  the  Lamb  of  God.  The  subject  of  these 
solemn  and  agitating  exercises,  waking  from  his  cat 
alepsy,  was  saluted  as  having  passed  from  death  to 
life,  from  perdition  to  salvation !  Then  were  poured 
out  prayers  of  thanksgiving,  and  then  all  joined  in 
hymns,  set  to  plaintive  and  sentimental  airs,  many 
of  them  associated  in  the  popular  mind  with  the  warm 
and  tender  emotions  of  youthful  love  and  human  af 
fection.  And  these  scenes  often  took  place  at  night, 
in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  amid  the  glare  of  torches, 
the  pageantry  of  processions,  and  the  murmurs  of  a 
thousand  voices,  joining  in  a  general  anthem  of  ago 
nizing  prayers  and  shouting  praises. 

To  a  religious  mind,  every  thing  that  tends  to  pro 
mote  religion  in  the  hearts  of  men,  is  apt  to  be  re 
garded  as  distinct  from  the  ordinary  providence  of 
God,  yet  it  is  difficult  to  prove  even  in  such  move 
ments,  that  He  ever  proceeds  without  the  use  of 
means.  The  notice  of  these  is  the  sphere  of  the 
historian,  and  therefore,  not  denying  or  disregard 
ing  the  invisible  influences  of  the  divine  Spirit, 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  199 

I  merely  chronicle  the  open  and  tangible  events  of 
the  time  I  refer  to,  with  the  machinery  employed  to 
produce  them.  The  founders  of  Methodism  did  not 
disdain  human  means :  nay,  I  suspect  it  will  be  diffi 
cult  to  find  in  the  originators  of  any  sect  or  creed,  a 
more  profound  knowledge  of  human  nature,  or  a 
more  sedulous  employment  of  human  agencies,  than 
are  to  be  discovered  in  the  early  promoters  of  Meth 
odism.  Their  camp-meetings,  their  love-feasts,  their 
adaptation  of  popular  airs  to  religious  songs,  their 
spirit  of  social  fellowship,  their  use  of  the  inferior  arts 
of  oratory,  their  employment  of  the  intense  enthusiasm 
of  congregated  masses,  their  promotion  of  cataleptic 
spasms  to  excite  a  feeling  of  supernatural  awe  in  the 
people,  were  all  calculated  to  produce  precisely  such 
effects  as  actually  proceeded  from  them.  It  is  neither 
necessary,  nor  is  it  philosophical,  in  explaining  what 
is  natural,  to  go  beyond  the  known  laws  of  nature. 
That  God  was  in  all  this,  we  believe,  but  only  as  He 
is  in  all  the  other  movements  of  human  life,  tending 
to  work  out  human  destiny.  Who  can  doubt  that 
the  career  of  Washington,  the  soldier  and  statesman, 
was  as  much  ordered  by  Providence  as  that  of  Wes 
ley  the  divine? 

We  all  know  with  what  epidemic  celerity  Method 
ism  spread  over  certain  portions  of  England,  espe 
cially  among  the  masses  of  Bristol,  Moorfields,  Black- 
heath,  Newcastle,  and  other  places.  Wesley  began 
his  mission  in  1729  :  at  his  death,  in  1791,  after  a 


200  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

laborious  life  of  sixty-five  years,  there  were  three 
hundred  itinerant  preachers,  and  a  thousand  local 
preachers,  with  eighty  thousand  persons,  associated  in 
societies,  all  belonging  to  his  creed.  This  of  course 
spread  to  America,  but  there  was  less  immediate  field 
for  it  here.  Nevertheless,  it  was  gradually  extended, 
especially  in  the  newly  settled  parts  of  the  south 
ern  and  western  country.  In  Kentucky  and  Ten 
nessee  it  was  widely  planted,  and  here  it  was  at 
tended  with  some  of  the  most  extraordinary  phenom 
ena*  recorded  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  At 

*  These  consisted  of  various  manifestations,  called  the  "falling,"  the 
"jerking,"  the  "  rotting,'1''  the  "  dancing"  and  the'"  barking"  exercises, 
together  with  visions  and  trances.  The  latter  were  the  most  common  ; 
in  these  the  subject  was  in  a  state  of  delicious  mental  revery,  with  a 
total  suspension  of  muscular  power  and  consciousness  to  external  ob 
jects.  In  the  jerks,  the  spasms  were  sometimes  so  violent  as  to  induce 
the  fear  that  those  affected  with  them  would  dislocate  their  necks.  Often 
the  countenance  was  most  disgustingly  distorted.  The  first  instance  of 
this  occurred  at  a  sacrament  in  East  Tennessee.  These  phenomena  were 
most  common  with  the  Methodists,  though  people  of  other  sects  were 
attacked  by  them.  The  contagion  even  spread  to  Ohio,  among  the  sober 
people  of  the  Western  Reserve. — Howe's  Great  West,  p.  179. 

Dow  gives  the  following  description  in  his  journal,  the  period  be 
ing  in  the  early  part  of  1804,  and  the  scenes  of  the  events  des«ribed,  in 
Tennessee  and  Kentucky. 

"  I  came  to  a  house.,  and  hired  a  woman  to  take  me  over  the  river 
in.  a  canoe  for  my  remaining  money  and  a  pair  of  scissors ;  the  latter  of 
which  was  the  chief  object  with  her :  so  one's  extremities  are  others' 
opportunities.  Thus  with  difficulty  I  got  to  my  appointment  in  New 
port,  in  time. 

"I  had  heard  about  a  singularity  called  the  ,/«•£*  or  jerking  exercise, 
which  appeared  first  near  Knoxville  in  August  last,  to  the  great  alarm 
of  the  people ;  which  reports  at  first  I  considered  as  vague  and  false ; 
but  at  length,  like  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  I  set  out  to  go  and  see  for  my 
self,  and  sent  over  these  appointment*  into  this  country  accordingly. 

"  When  I  arrived  in  sight  of  the  town,  I  saw  hundreds  of  people 
collected  in  little  bodies ;  and  observing  no  place  appointed  for  meet- 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCPOTICAL,  ETC.  201 

the  religious  gatherings,  whether  in  dwellings  and 
churches  or  in  the  open  woods  and  fields,  persons 
would  be  suddenly  taken  with  certain  irresistible 
spasms,  inciting  them  to  the  most  strange  and  extrav 
agant  performances.  Some  would  bark  like  dogs, 
and  attempt  to  climb  the  trees,  declaring  that  they  were 
treeing  the  devil.  Some  had  delicious  trances  ;  others 
danced  as  if  beset  with  sudden  frenzy;  others  still  were 

ing,  before  I  spoke  to  any,  I  got  on  a  log  and  gave  out  a  hymn,  which 
caused  them  to  assemble  round,  in  a  solemn,  attentive  silence.  I  ob 
served  several  involuntary  motions  in  the  course  of  the  meeting,  which 
1  considered  as  a  specimen  of  the  jerks.  I  rode  several  miles  behind  a 
man  across  a  stream  of  water,  and  held  meeting  in  the  evening,  being 
ten  miles  on  my  way. 

"  In  the  night  I  grew  uneasy,  being  twenty-five  miles  from  my  ap 
pointment  for  next  Monday  at  eleven  o'clock.  I  prevailed  upon  a  young 
man  to  attempt  carrying  me  with  horses  until  day,  which  he  thought 
was  impracticable,  considering  the  darkness  of  the  night  and  the  thick 
ness  of  the  *rees.  Solitary  shrieks  were  heard  in  these  woods,  which 
he  told  me  were  the  cries  of  murdered  persons.  At  day  we  parted,  be 
ing  still  seventeen  miles  from  the  spot;  and  the  ground  covered  with  a 
white  frost.  I  had  not  proceeded  far  before  I  came  to  a  stream  of  water 
from  the  springs  of  the  mountain,  which  made  it  dreadful  cold.  la 
my  heated  state  I  had  to  wade  this  stream  five  times  in  the  course  of 
about  an  hour,  which  I  perceived  BO  affected  my  body  that  my  strength 
began  to  fail.  Fears  began  to  arise  that  I  must  disappoint  the  people, 
till  I  observed  some  fresh  tracks  of  horses,  which  caused  me  to  exert 
every  nerve  to  overtake  them,  in  hopes  of  aid  or  assistance  on  my  jour 
ney,  and  soon  1  saw  them  on  an  eminence.  I  shouted  for  them  to  stop 
till  I  came  up.  They  inquired  what  I  wanted  ;  I  replied,  I  had  heard 
there  was  a  meeting  at  Seversville  by  a  stranger,  and  was  going  to  it. 
They  replied  that  they  had  heard  that  a  crazy  man  was  to  hold  forth 
there,  and  were  going  also ;  and  perceiving  that  I  was  weary,  they  in 
vited  me  to  ride  ;  and  soon  our  company  was  increased  to  forty  or  fifty, 
who  fell  in  with  us  on  the  road  from  different  plantations.  At  length  I 
was  interrogated  whether  I  knew  any  thing  about  the  preacher.  I  re 
plied,  I  had  heard  a  good  deal  about  him,  and  had  heard  him  preach, 
but  had  no  great  opinion  of  him  ;  and  thus  the  conversation  contin 
ued  for  some  miles  before  they  found  me  out,  which  caused  some  color 
and  smiles  iu  the  company.  Thus  T  got  on  to  meeting,  aud  after  taking 

9* 


202  T.KTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

agitated  by  violent  and  revolting  convulsions  and 
twitchings,  which  obtained  the  popular  name  of  the 
jerks.  All  classes  of  persons  who  came  within  the  atmo 
sphere  of  the  mania — Methodists,  Presbyterians,  and 
Quakers — men  and  women — became  subjects  of  these 
extraordinary  agitations.  I  recollect  to  have  heard 
the  late  Thomas  II.  Gallaudet  say  that,  when  a  young 
man,  he  visited  one  of  the  meetings  where  these  phe- 

a  cup  of  tea,  gratis,  I  began  to  speak  to  a  vnst  audience  :  and  I  observed 
about  thirty  to  have  the  jerks,  though  they  strove  to  keep  as  still  us 
they  could.  These  emotions  were  involuntary  and  irresistible,  as  any 
unprejudiced  eye  might  discern.  Lawyer  Porter  (who  had  come  a  con 
siderable  distance)  got  his  heart  touched  under  the  word,  and  being 
informed  how  I  came  to  meeting,  voluntarily  lent  me  a  horse  to  ride 
near  one  hundred  miles,  and  gave  me  a  dollar,  though  he  hud  never 
seen  me  before. 

"  Hence  to  Marysville.  where  I  spoke  to  about  one  thousand  five  hun 
dred  :  many  appeared  to  feel  the  word,  but  about  fifty  felt  the  jerks.  At 
night  I  lodged  with  one  of  the  Nicholites,  a  kind  of  Quakers,  who  do 
not  feel  free  to  wear  colored  clothes.  I  spoke  to  a  number  of  people  at 
his  house  that  night.  Whilst  at  tea,  I  observed  his  daughter  (who'  sat 
opposite  to  me  at  the  tabie)  to  have  the/«rfo,  and  dropped  the  tea-cup 
from  her  hand  in  violent  agitation.  I  said  to  her,  *  Young  woman,  what 
is  the  matter?'  She  replied,  'I  have  got  the  jerlcs."1  I  asked  her  how 
long  she  had  it.  She  observed,  '  A  few  days,'  and  that  it  had  been  the 
means  of  the  awakening  and  conversion  of  her  soul,  by  stirring  her  up 
to  serious  consideration  about  her  careless  state,  &c. 

•'Sunday,  Feb.  19,  I  spoke  in  Knoxville,  to  hundreds  more  than  could 
pet  into  the  court-house — the  governor  being  present.  About  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  appeared  to  have  jerking  exercise,  among  whom  was  a 
circuit  preacher  (Johnson),  who  had  opposed  them  a  little  before,  but 
he  now  had  them  powerfully  ;  and  1  believe  he  would  have  fallen  over 
three  times,  had  not  the  auditory  been  so  crowded,  that  he  could  not, 
unless  he  fell  perpendicularly. 

"  After  meeting,  I  rode  eighteen  miles  to  hold  meeting  at  night.  The 
.people  of  this  settlement  were  mostly  Quakers,  and  they  had  said,  as 
1  was  informed,  that  '  the  Methodists  and  Presbyterians  have  the  jerlrt 
because  they  sing  and  pray  so  much  ;  but  we  are  a  still,  peaceable  peo 
ple,  wherefore  we  do  not  have  them  ;'  however,  about  twenty  of  them 
citi.ir  to  meeting,  to  hear  one.  as  was  said,  somewhat  in  a  Quaker  line. 


THE  JERKING  KXEUCISE.    Vol.  1.  p.  202. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC. 

nomena  were  taking  place,  and  that  lie  felt  within 
himself  an  almost  uncontrollable  temptation  to  imi 
tate  some  of  the  strange  antics  that  were  going  on 
around  him. 

Nor  did  all  this — so  calculated  as  it  was  to  excite 
public  curiosity,  and  to  produce  in  the  minds  of  the 
ignorant  a  superstitious  idea  that  there  must  be  some 
thing  supernatural  in  a  religion  that  led  to  such 

But  their  usual  stillness  and  silence  was  interrupted,  for  about  a  dozen 
of  them  had  \\Mjerks  as  keen  and  as  powerful  as  any  I  had  seen,  so  as 
to  have  occasioned  a  kind  of  grunt  or  groan  when  they  would  jerk.  It 
appears  that  many  have  undervalued  the  Great  Revival,  and  attempted 
to  account  for  it  altogether  on  natural  principles;  therefore  it  seems  to 
me,  from  the  best  judgment  I  can  form,  that  God  hath  seen  proper  to 
take  this  method  to  convince  people  that  he  will  work  in  a  way  to  show 
his  power,  and  sent  t\\zjerlct  as  a  sign  of  the  times,  partly  in  judgment 
for  the  people's  unbelief,  and  yet  as  a  mercy  to  convict  people  of  di 
vine  realities. 

"I  have  seen  Presbyterians,  Methodists,  Quakers,  Baptists,  Church 
of  England,  and  Independents,  exercised  with  the  jerks.  Gentleman 
and  lady,  black  and  white,  the  aged  and  the  youth,  rich  and  poor,  with 
out  exception  ;  from  which  I  infer,  as  it  can  not  be  accounted  for  on 
natural  principles,  and  carries  such  marks  of  involuntary  motion,  that 
it  is  no  trifling  matter.  I  believe  that  they  who  were  the  most  pious 
and  given  up  to  God  are  rarely  touched  with  it;  and  also  those  nat 
uralists,  who  wish  and  try  to  get  it  to  philosophize  npon  it,  are  ex- 
cepted  ;  but  the  lukewarm,  lazy,  half-hearted,  indolent  professor,  is  sub 
ject  to  it,  and  many  of  them  I  have  seen,  who,  when  it  came  upon  them, 
would  be  alarmed,  and  stirred  up  to  redouble  their  diligence  with  God, 
and  after  they  would  get  happy,  were  thankful  that  it  ever  came  upon 
them.  Again,  the  wicked  are  frequently  more  afraid  of  it  than  the 
small-pox  or  yellow  fever.  These  are  subject  to  it ;  but  the  persecutor* 
are  more  subject  to  it  than  any,  and  they  sometimes  have  cursed  and 
swore  and  damned  it,  whilst  jerking.  There  is  no  pain  attending  the 
jerks  except  they  resist  them,  which,  if  they  do,  it  will  weary  them 
more  in  an  hour  than  a  day's  labor,  which  shows  that  it  requires  the 
consent  of  the  will  to  avoid  suffering. 

"  I  passed  by  a  meeting-house,  where  I  observed  the  undergrowth  had 
been  cut  up  for  a  camp-meeting,  and  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  saplings 
left  breast  high,  which  to  me  appeared  so  Slovenish  that  I  could  not  but 


204:  LKTTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

results — constitute  the  whole  of  the  machinery  of 
Methodism,  at  this  period.  Some  of  the  preachers 
seemed  to  be  impelled  in  their  orbits — if  not  as 
swift,  certainly  more  eccentric  than  those  of  the 
comets  —  by  a  zeal,  an  energy,  an  enthusiasm, 
•which  some  kind  of  inspiration  alone  could  create. 
The  wandering  priests  of  Buddhism — who  traverse 
mountains  and  rivers,  seas,  islands,  and  continents, 
with  a  restlessness  which  knows  no  abatement ;  the 
-Mohammedan  friars  that  profess  to  work  miracles,  and 
in  evidence  of  their  powers,  spin  round  and  round 
till  they  fall  fainting  upon  the  floor ;  the  Bramins, 
who  rush  under  the  wheels  of  Juggernaut,  or  cause 
themselves  to  be  suspended  by  irons  hooked  into  the 
muscles  of  the  back,  and  then  whirled  round  in  the 


ask  my  guide  the  cause,  who  observed  they  were  topped  so  high,  and 
left  for  the  people  to  jerk  by.  This  BO  excited  my  attention  that  I  went 
over  the  ground  to  view  it,  and  found,  where  the  people  had  laid  hold 
of  them  and  jerked  so  powerfully,  that  they  had  kicked  np  the  earth  as 
"a  horse  stamping  flies.  I  observed  some  emotion  both  this  day  and  night 
among  the  people.  A  Presbyterian  minister  (with  whom  I  stayed)  ob 
served,  '  Yesterday,  whilst  I  was  speaking,  some  had  the  jerks,  and  a 
young  man  from  North  Carolina  mimicked  them  out  of  derision,  and 
soon  was  seized  with  them  himself  (which  was  the  case  with  many 
others).  He  grew  ashamed,  and  on  attempting  to  mount  his  horse  to 
go  off,  his  foot  jerked  about  so  that  he  could  not  put  it  into  the  stirrup. 
Some  youngsters  seeing  this,  assisted  him  on,  but  he  jerked  so  that 
•he  could  not  sit  alone,  and  one  got  up  to  hold  him  on,  which  was  done 
with  difficulty.  I  observing  this,  went  to  him,  and  asked  him  what  he 
thought  of  it.  Said  he,  "  I  believe  God  sent  it  on  me  for  my  wick 
edness,  and  making  light  of  it  in  others,"  and  he  requested  me  to 
pray  for  him.' 

"  I  observed  his  wife  had  it;  she  said  she  was  first  attacked  in  bed. 
T>r  Nelson' had  frequently  strove  to  get  it  (in  order  to  philosophize 
about  it),  but  he  could  not ;  and  observed  they  could  not  accouo*  for  it 
'<m  nutural  principles." 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC  A  L,  ETC.  205 

air  from  a  long  pole  ; — these  were  all  rivaled,  if  not 
outdone,  by  the  indomitable  zeal  of  some  of  the  preach 
ers  and  propagators  of  Methodism  at  this  period. 

The  most  conspicuous  of  these  was  the  noted  Lo 
renzo  Dow.*  He  was  a  native  of  Connecticut,  and  at 
the  period  of  my  boyhood  had  begun  to  be  talked 
about  chiefly  on  account  of  his  eccentricities — though 
he  was  also  a  man  of  some  talent.  About  the  time 

*  Methodism  was  first  introduced  into  America  about  the  year  1766. 
In  1771,  the  celebrated  Francis  Asbury  came  over  from  England,  and 
preached  here.  He  was  followed  by  Dr.  Coke  in  1784,  and  in  that  year 
the  Methodist  Church  in  America  was  duly  organized.  The  two  indi 
viduals  just  mentioned,  were  men  of  education,  talent,  zeal,  and  piety, 
and  to  their  earnest  and  untiring  labors,  the  rapid  spread  of  the  society 
may  be  chiefly  attributed.  Asbury,  who  was  constituted  senior  bishop 
in  the  United  States,  in  the  course  of  his  ministry  ordained  three  thou- 
pand  ministers,  and  preached  seventeen  thousand  sermons  ! 

Among  the  extraordinary  incidents  in  the  history  of  Methodism,  we 
may  note  the  following : 

"  Last  year  (1799)  was  celebrated  for  the  commencement  of  those 
Great  Revivals  iu  Eeligion  in  the  Western  Country,  which  induced  the 
practice  of  holding  camp-meetings.  This  work  commenced  under  thft 
united  labors  of  two  brothers  by  the  name  of  McGee,  one  a  Presbyte 
rian  and  the  other  a  Methodist  preacher.  On  one  occasion,  William 
McGee  felt  such  a  power  come  over  him,  that  he  seemed  not  to  know 
what  he  did ;  so  he  left  his  seat  and  sat  down  on  the  floor,  while  John 
sat  trembling  under  the  consciousness  of  the  power  of  God.  In  the  mean 
time  there  was  great  solemnity  and  weeping  all  over  the  house.  He  was 
expected  to  preach,  but  instead  of  that,  he  arose  and  told  the  people  that 
the  overpowering  nature  of  his  feelings  would  not  allow  of  his  preach 
ing,  but  as  the  Lord  was  evidently  among  them,  he  earnestly  exhorted 
the  people  to  surrender  their  hearts  to  him.  Sobs  and  cries  bespoke 
the  deep  feeling  which  pervaded  the  hearts  of  the  people.  This  great  and 
earnest  work  excited  such  attention,  that  the  people  came  in  crowds  from 
the  surrounding  country,  and  this  was  the  beginning  of  that  great  revi 
val  in  religion  in  the  western  country  which  introduced  camp-meeting*. 
Tliis  novel  mode  of  worshiping  God  excited  great  attention.  In  the  night 
the  grove  was  illuminated  by  lighted  candles,  lamps,  or  torches.  This, 
together  with  the  stillness  of  the  night,  the  solemnity  which  rested  on 
»very  countenance,  the  peculiar  and  earnest  manner  in  which  the  prencli- 


206  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

that  Methodism  began  to  spread  itself  in  Connecticut, 
Dow  appeared  in  Ridgefield,  and  taking  a  stand  on 
'Squire  Nathan  Smith's  wood-pile,  held  forth  to  a  few 
boys  and  other  people  that  chanced  to  be  in  that 
quarter.  I  was  returning  from  school,  and  stopped 
to  hear  his  discourse.  He  was  then  about  thirty 
vears  of  age,  but  looked  much  older.  He  was  thin 
and  weather-beaten,  and  appeared  haggard  and  ill- 


ers  exhorted  the  people  to  repentance,  prayer,  and  faith,  prodnced  the 
most  awful  sensations  on  the  minus  of  all  present." 

"  At  a  meeting  held  in  Cabin  Creek,  the  work  seemed  to  bear  down 
all  opposition.  Few,  if  any,  escaped  from  it;  such  as  attempted  to  run 
from  it  were  frequently  struck  down  in  the  way.  On  the  third  night  so 
many  fell  (that  is,  in  cataleptic  swoons),  that  to  prevent  their  being  trod 
den  under  feet,  they  were  collected  together,  and  laid  out  in  two  squares 
of  the  meeting-house.  At  the  great  meeting  at  Cambridge,  the  number 
that  fell  was  named  at  over  three  thousand  !" — Bangs'  History  of  Methoii- 
ism,  vol.  ii.  p.  108. 

The  following  will  give  some  idea  of  the  men  and  manners  connected 
with  Methodism  at  this  era : 

"  Calvin  Wooster  was  a  man  of  mighty  prayer  and  faith.  Nor  was  he 
alone  in  this  work.  The  other  preachers  caught  the  flame  of  divine  love, 
and  were  carried  forward,  under  its  sacred  influence,  in  their  Master's 
work.  Many  instances  of  the  manifestations  of  Divine  power  and  grace 
might  be  narrated,  one  of  which  I  will  relate.  At  a  quarterly  meeting 
in  the  Bay  of  Quinte  circuit  (Upper  Canada,  A.  D.  1799),  as  the  preacher 
commenced  his  sermon,  n  thoughtless  man  in  the  front  gallery  com 
menced  in  a  playful  mood  to  swear  profanely,  and  thus  to  disturb  the 
congregation.  The  preacher  paid  no  attention  to  him,  until  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  his  sermon,  when  feeling  strong  in  faith  and  the  power  of 
his  might,  suddenly  stopping,  he  fixed  his  piercing  eyes  on  the  profane 
man ;  then  stamping  his  foot,  and  pointing  his  finger  at  him,  with  great 
energy  he  cried  out,  '  My  God,  smite  hirnT  He  instantly  fell,  as  if  shot 
through  the  heart  with  a  bullet.  At  this  moment  such  a  divine  afflatus 
came  down  upon  the  congregation,  tliat  sinners  were  crying  to  God  for 
mercy  in  every  direction,  while  the  saints  of  God  burst  forth  in  loud 
praises  to  His  name." — Bangs'  History  of  Meihvdiem,  vol.  ii.  p.  74. 

We  now  come  to  Lorenzo  Dow. 

This  person  was  born  at  Coventry,  Connecticut,  in  1777.  In  his 
'•  J£ftmpl,ijitd  Krjttrlencif,  or  LiH'fnzo'x  Journal,'''  he  says :  "  One  d&yt 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  207 

favored,  partly  on  account  of  his  reddish,  dusty  beard, 
some  six  inches  long — then  a  singularity  if  not  an 
enormity,  as  nobody  among  us  but  old  Jagger  the 
beggar  cultivated  such  an  appendage.  I  did  not  com 
prehend  what  he  said,  and  only  remember  his  general 
appearance.  He  was  merely  passing  through  Kidge- 
field,  and  soon  departed,  having  produced  the  impres 
sion  that  he  was  an  odd  sort  of  person,  and  rather 

when  I  was  between  three  and  four  years  old,  I  suddenly  fell  into  a 
re  very  about  God  and  those  places  called  Heaven  and  Hell,  so  that  I 
forgot  my  play,  and  nsked  my  companion  if  he  ever  said  his  prayers. 
He  said  no.  'Then,'  said  I,  'you  are  wicked,  and  I  will  not  play  with 
you ;'  so  I  quit  his  company,  and  went  into  the  house."  Afterwards, 
having  killed  a  bird,  he  became  distressed  in  mind,  and  wished  he  had 
never  been  born.  Still  later  he  had  a  dream,  in  which  he  saw  the 
prophet  Nathan,  who  told  him  that  he  wortld  die  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
two.  In  1791  he  saw  John  Wesley  in  a  dream,  which  induced  him  to 
change  his  ways,  and  enter  on  a  religious  life.  "  Soon,"  he  says,  "  I 
became  like  a  speckled  bird  among  the  birds  of  the  forest,  in  the  eyes 
of  my  friends." 

After  various  mental  agonies  he  took  to  preaching,  and  up  to  the  time 
of  his  death,  which  occurred  at  Georgetown,  District  of  Columbia,  in 
1834,  he  traveled  and  preached  with  a  restlessness  perhaps  without  par 
allel  in  human  history.  He  not  only  visited  repeatedly  almost  every 
part  of  the  United  States,  but  England  and  Ireland,  everywhere  ad 
dressing  such  audiences  as  came  in  his  way.  Sometimes  he  spoke  from 
a  stump,  or  rock,  or  fallen  tt.ee  in  the  wildnesses  ;  sometimes  in  private 
houses,  sometimes  in  religious  edifices,  sometimes  on  the  platforms  of 
camp-meetings.  Few  men  have  ever  traveled  so  many  miles  :  no  one, 
probably,  ever  preached  to  so  great  a  number  of  persons. 

His  Journal,  above  mentioned,  is  a  very  curious,  though  quaint  and 
affected,  record  of  his  experience  and  adventures.  lie  appears  to  have 
been  actuated  by  a  desire  of  moving  on  and  on,  fearing  no  danger,  and 
overcoming  every  obstacle.  He  must  preach  or  die,  and  he  must  preach 
in  new  places  and  to  new  audiences.  He  seems  to  have  considered  him 
self  as  urged  by  a  divine  enthusiasm  to  preach  the  Gospel.  The  shrewd 
observer  will  think  he  was  quite  as  anxious  to  preach  Lorenzo  Dow.  He 
evidently  had  a  large  share  of  personal  vanity  :  his  spirit  was  aggressive, 
and  attacks  upon  other  sects  constituted  a  large  part  of  his  preaching. 
Jn  one  instance  lie  was  prosecuted  for  libel  upon  a  olerirv  111:111.  an-1  b"im; 


SOS  I.ETTKR8 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

light-headed.  I  afterward  heard  him  preach  twice  at 
camp-meetings,  and  will  endeavor  to  give  you  some 
idea  of  his  manner.  The  following  is  a  passage,  as 
nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  his  general  discourse  being 
aimed  at  those  who  accused  the  Methodists  of  being 
New  Lights — a  mere  set  of  enthusiasts. 

"Now,  my  friends,  you  all  know  we  are  called 
New  Lights.  It  is  said  that  we  have  in  us  a  false 
fire  which  throws  out  a  glare  only  to  mislead  and 
deceive  the  people.  They  say  we  are  actuated  by 
the  spirit  of  the  devil,  instead  of  the  spirit  of  reli 
gion.  Well,  no  matter  what  they  say ;  no  matter 
what  they  call  us :  the  question  is,  whether  we  have 
the  real  fire  or  the  false  fire?  I  say  we  have  got 
the  true  fire,  and  the  old  Church-and-State  Presby 
terians  have  got  the  false  fire.  That's  what  I  say, 
and  I'll  prove  it. 

convicted  WHS  imprisoned  for  ti  short  time.  He  resorted  to  various  ar 
tifice^  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  the  public,  and  thus  to  increase  his  au 
diences'.  His  doctrines  were  those  of  the  Methodists,  and  he  generally 
associated  with  Methodist  congregations  :  still,  lie  never  formally  became 
a  member  of  that  communion.  Though  he  hud  the  weaknesses  and  vices 
above  suggested,  he  is  generally  regarded,  on  the  whole,  as  a  sincere  and 
religious  mau.  His  character  is,  however,  not  to  be  commended,  for  infi 
delity  thrives  upon  foibles,  eccentricities,  artifices,  and  vulgarities,  in  one 
who  assumes  to  be  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel.  Such  things  may  catch  a 
few  thoughtless  minds,  but  the  reflecting — those  who  will  exert  a  -.vide 
and  lasting  influence — will  be  apt  to  point  to  them  as  evidence  that  ro- 
ligion  is  the  offspring  of  ignorance  and  fanaticism,  played  upon  by  char 
latans  and  pretenders. 

Peggy  Dow,  Lorenzo's  wife,  seems  to  have  had  a  great  admiration  oi 
her  husband,  and  to  have  shared  in  his  religious  zeal,  without  partaking 
of  his  vices  of  manner  and  mind.  On  the  whole,  her  character  hup- 
pily  displays  the  feminine  characteristics  of  warm  affection,  devotion, 
and  that  charity  which  covers  a  multitude  of  sins  and  weaknesses. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  209 

"  There  is  in  nater,  no  doubt,  as  well  as  in  religion, 
both  false  fire  and  true  fire  :  the  first  is  rotten-wood, 
which  shines  in  the  night.  You  often  see  it  among 
the  roots  and  trunks  of  old  decayed  trees.  But  you 
may  pile  it  up  as  high  as  a  haystack,  and  it  won't 
make  a  pot  boil.  Now  ain't  that  like  the  old  sleepy, 
decayed  Presbyterians  ?  But  as  to  the  true  fire — if 
you  take  a  few  kindlings,  and  put  'em  under  a  kit 
tie,  and  put  some  water  in  the  kittle,  and  then  set 
the  kindlings  on  fire,  you'll  see  something,  won't 
you  ?  Well :  what  will  you  see  ?  Why  the  water 
begins  to  wallop  and  wallop  and  wallop  !  Well,  sup 
pose  you  had  never  seen  water  bile  before — you'd  say 
the  devil  was  in  it,  wouldn't  you  ?  Of  course  you 
would.  Now,  it  is  just  so  with  this  carnal  genera 
tion — the  old  school,  the  rotten-wood,  the  false-fire 
people — they  see  us  moved  with  the  true  fire  of  reli 
gion,  and  they  say  the  devil's,  in  it — because  they 
never  saw  it  before,  and  don't  understand  it.  Thus 
it  is  they  call  us  New  Lights.  No  wonder,  for  they 
have  nothing  but  false  fire  in  their  hearts  !" 

Lorenzo  was  not  only  uncouth  in  his  person  and 
appearance,  but  his  voice  was  harsh,  his  action  hard 
and  rectangular.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive 
of  a  person  more  entirely  destitute  of  all  natural 
eloquence.  But  he  understood  common  life,  and 
especially  vulgar  life  —  its  tastes,  prejudices,  and 
weaknesses ;  and  he  possessed  a  cunning  knack  of 
adapting  his  discourses  to  such  audiences.  He  told 


210  LE1TERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

stories  with  considerable  art,  and  his  memory  being 
stored  with  them,  he  could  always  point  a  moral  or 
clinch  a  proposition  by  an  anecdote.  He  knew  that 
with  simple  people  an  illustration  is  better  than  logic, 
and  when  he  ran  short  of  Scripture,  or  argument 
failed,  he  usually  resorted  to  some  pertinent  story  or 
adapted  allegory.  He  affected  oddity  in  all  things — 
in  his  mode  of  preaching  as  well  as  in  dress.  He 
took  pains  to  appear  suddenly  and  by  surprise  among 
the  people  where  he  proposed  to  hold  forth  :  he  fre 
quently  made  his  appointments  a  year  beforehand, 
and  at  the  very  minute  set,  he  would  come  like  an 
apparition.  He  often  took  scraps  of  texts,  and  ex 
tracted  from  them,  by  a  play  upon  words,  an  unex 
pected  argument  or  startling  inference.  His  endeavor 
seemed  to  be  to  exercise  an  influence  over  the  imagi 
nation  by  associating  himself  in  the  minds  of  the  peo 
ple  with  John  the  Baptist,  preaching  in  the  wilder 
ness,  and  living  on  locusts  and  wild  honey.  His 
special  admirers  saw  great  merit  in  his  oddities,  and 
even  in  his  long  shaggy  goat.  By  the  vain  world 
of  that  day,  this  was  deemed  beastly — for  then  fop 
pery  had  not  taken  the  beard  as  its  type  and  its 
glory.  It  was  thirty  years  later,  that  I  saw  an 
American  among  the  fashionable  circles  of  Paris,  and 
who  had  his  reddish  hair  and  beard  dressed  like 
Christ  in  Raphael's  pictures — very  much  petted  by 
the  French  ladies,  who  thought  him  so  like  our  Sa 
viour  ! 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAT.,  ETC.  211 

At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  one  of  the  great 
points  of  dispute  between  Methodism  and  Orthodoxy 
was  that  of  "Falling  from  Grace  :"  the  former  taking 
the  affirmative  and  the  latter  the  negative.  The  in 
firmities  of  human  nature,  sometimes  visible  in  the 
Elect,  furnished  abundant  and  laughter-moving  weap 
ons  against  the  doctrine  of  the  saints'  perseverance. 
The  apostle  Peter,  who  had  denied  his  Lord  and 
Master  under  circumstances  which  made  his  conduct 
appear  in  the  highest  degree  craven  and  cowardly, 
furnished  a  standing  argument  for  the  preachers  of 
Methodism.  The  scandals  of  deacons  and  priests  in 
the  orthodox  church,  were  picked  up  and  thrown  into 
the  argument  with  more  wit  than  delicacy.  In  this 
coarse,  Parthian  warfare,  Lorenzo  was  an  adept — and 
he  seemed  to  take  as  much  delight  in  provoking  the 
ribald  mirth  of  the  mocker  of  all  religion,  as  in  contro 
verting  ecclesiastical  error  in  the  mind  of  the  sincere 
inquirer.  It  is  true  that,  in  private,  the  orthodox  some 
times  paid  back  and  perhaps  with  interest,  for  the 
Methodists  claimed  to  attain  spiritual  perfection.  It 
was  not  difficult  to  find  cases  in  which  their  practice 
jarred  a  little  with  their  pretenses.  The  Methodists 
had  the  advantage,  however,  for  their  preachers  in 
troduced  these  topics  in  their  discourses,  often  ma 
king  pointed  and  personal  attacks  the  pepper  and 
salt  of  their  harangues — while  the  more  stately  or- 
thodox  usually  confined  their  discussions  to  private 
circles,  or  perhaps  general  and  dignified  notices  in. 


212  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

their  sermons.  On  one  occasion,  Dow  illustrated 
his  views  on  the  subject  of  "  Falling  from  Grace," 
somewhat  as  follows,  his  text  being  a  part  of  the 
verse,  Heb.  ii.  1 :  "  Lest  at  any  time  we  should  lei 
them  slip" 

"Now,  my  brethren,"  said  Dow — when  he  had 
stated  and  enlarged  upon  his  argument — "let  me 
take  a  case,  and  a  very  likely  one  to"  happen.  Nay, 
I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  it  hain't  happened,  and  not  a 
hundred  miles  off.  Well,  here  is  Major  Smith,  who 
becomes  convarted.  He  joins  the  church,  and  is 
safe  as  a  codfish,  pickled,  packed,  and  in  port.  Of 
course  his  calling  and  election  are  sure.  He  can't 
let  'em  slip.  He  can't  fall  from  grace — not  he  !  Don't 
be  too  certain  of  that,  my  brethren  !  Don't  be  too  sure 
of  that,  major! 

"  I  say  nothing  agin  the  character  of  Major  Smith, 
mind  you.  He  is  a  very  fair  sort  of  a  man,  as  the  world 
goes.  Nevertheless,  they  du  say  that  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  taking,  now  and  then,  a  glass  or  two  more 
than  was  good  for  him.  He  was  fond  of  a  warm  gin 
toddy,  especially  of  a  cold  day,  for  he  was  subject  to 
wind  on  the  stomach  ;  and  then,  in  order  to  settle 
his  toddy,  he  would  take  a  glass  of  flip,  and  then  to 
settle  his  flip,  he'd  take  a  glass  of  toddy,  agin.  These 
he  usually  took  in  the  arternoon  and  at  Northrup's 
tavern. 

"  But,  as  I  say,  one  day  Major  Smith  was  convart 
ed,  and  taken  into  the  church,  and  so  he  must  reform. 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTIOAL,   ETC.  213 

He  must  give  up  toddy  and  flip,  and  Northrup's  tav 
ern.  And  he  has  gin  them  all  up — for  he  is  parfeckly 
sincere — mind  you.  Well,  some  weeks  later,  on  the 
arternoon  of  a  cold  blustering  day  in  December,  he 
happens  to  be  passing  by  Northrup's  tavern.  Just  at 
that  time,  as  the  devil  will  have  it — for  the  devil  is 
always  looking  out  for  a  chance — his  old  friend  and 
bottle  companion,  Nate  Seymour,  comes  to  the  door, 
and  sees  the  major.  Well,  the  latter  rides  up,  and 
they  shake  hands,  and  talk  over  the  news,  and  finally 
Nate  says,  '  Won't  you  come  in  a  minute,  major?' 

"  Now,  as  I  tell  you,  it's  a  cold  winter's  day,  and 
the  major  says  he'll  jest  get  down,  and  warm  his 
fingers.  He  won't  drink  any  thing  of  course,  but  he 
thinks  it  best  not  to  break  all  at  once  with  his  old 
friends,  for  they  may  say  he's  proud.  Perhaps  he'll 
have  a  chance  to  say  a  word  in  season  to  some  one. 
So  he  goes  in,  and,  as  it  happens,  Nate  jest  then  puts 
the  red-hot  poker  into  a  mug  of  flip.  How  it  bub 
bles  and  simmers  and  foams  !  What  a  nice  odor  it 
does  send  forth  into  the  room  1  And  jest  then  the 
landlord  grates  in  a  little  nutmeg.  What  a  pleasant 
sound  is  that  to  poor,  shivering  human  nater,  on  a 
cold  day  in  December ! 

"  Well,  Nate  takes  it  and  hands  it  to  the  major. 
The  major  says  to  himself,  '  I'll  just  put  it  to  my  lips, 
so  as  not  to  seem  frumptious  and  unreasonable,  but  I 
won't  drink  any.'  So  he  takes  it,  and  it  feels  mighty 
warm  and  nice  to  his  cold  fingers.  He  looks  at  it ; 


2 1 4  LLTfERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

its  fumes  rise  to  his  nostrils;  he  remembers  the  joys 
of  other  days  ;  he  puts  it  to  his  lips  I 

"  Well,  and  what  then  ?  Oh  nothing,  my  breth 
ren — only  I  tell  you,  that  elect  or  no  elect,  that  is  a 
very  slippery  spot  for  the  major  I" 

The  effect  of  this  upon  an  audience  to  whom  such 
language  was  adapted,  especially  as  it  all  referred  to 
a  well-known  person,  who,  after  being  taken  into  the 
church,  had  backslidden  to  his  old  habits,  may  be 
easily  appreciated.  Who  could  argue  down  such 
telling  logic  with  the  million  ? 

For  a  considerable  time  the  Methodists  made  few 
converts  in  Bidgefield,  but  they  planted  themselves 
in  the  neighboring  towns,  and  soon  their  numbers 
were  sufficient  to  hold  camp-meetings  in  various 
quarters.  At  length,  Dr.  Baker,  a  respectable  physi 
cian  of  our  village,  became  imbued  with  the  rising 
spirit,  and  he  began  to  hold  meetings  in  his  kitchen. 
Here  there  was  praying,  and  exhorting,  and  telling 
experiences,  and  singing  sentimental  airs  to  warm  and 
sentimental  religious  hymns.  The  neighbors  gathered 
in,  and  soon  it  was  noised  abroad  that  a  great  work  was 
going  on.  Various  passions  were  insensibly  wrought 
upon  to  swell  the  movement ;  curiosity  was  gratified 
by  something  new  and  strange  ;  the  love  of  the  dra 
matic,  implanted  in  every  bosom,  was  delighted  with 
scenes  in  which  men  and  women  stood  up  and  told 
how  the  Lord  had  brought  them  from  death  unto  life  : 
the  tender  melodies  touched  and  melted  many  hearts ; 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOT1CAL,   ETC  215 

the  sympathy  of  young  men  and  young  .  /aidens  was 
titillated ;  the  love  of  fellowship  between  man  and 
man  was  flattered;  and  all  these  varying  emotions 
seemed  to  be  melted  into  one  warm,  flowing  current 
of  religion,  sanctified  by  the  presence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit !  How  curious  are  the  workings  of  the  human 
heart !  how  much  of  earth  is  often  mingled  in  with 
what  claims  to  breathe  of  heaven  ! 

I  cast  no  reproaches  upon  these  persons  :  Dr.  Baker 
was  a  true  and  worthy  man,  and  among  his  associates 
were  several  excellent  people.  I  do  not  deny  that 
in  the  end  much  good  was  done ;  that  the  thoughtless, 
the  frivolous,  the  vain,  and  in  some  cases  the  wicked 
and  the  debased,  were  drawn,  even  through  these 
means,  to  religious  convictions  and  a  religious  life. 
Still,  these  things  were  looked  upon  as  a  vain  and 
delusive  mania,  or  perhaps  even  the  work  of  the  Evil 
One,  by  the  world  around,  and  especially  by  those  of 
the  established  creed.  Nevertheless,  the  movement 
spread,  and  at  last  became  epidemic.  Some  of  my 
father's  flock  strayed  from  the  fold,  and  became  the 
spoil  of  the  enemy.  One  or  two  of  his  staunch 
church  members  saw  new  light  in  the  horizon  of  their 
religion.  A  little  short  man,  up  at  the  North  End, 
who  had  a  fine  treble  voice  and  a  tall  wife  with  the 
throat  of  a  trumpet,  but  who  was  withal  one  of  the 
pillars  of  the  church — came  to  our  house,  bringing 
the  said  wife  on  a  pillion,  both  charged  with  Lorenzo 
Dow's  true  fire.  Therefore,  they  lifted  up  their  voices 


216  LETTEES — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

and  testified  to  my  father  that  a  new  era  had  come, 
and  that  it  was  time  for  him  and  his  people  to  wake 
up  from  their  slumbers,  which  boded  death  and  de 
struction  to  their  souls  1 

The  precise  scene  I  do  not  remember.  I  have  only 
a  general  recollection  of  the  deep  anxiety  of  both  my 
parents  about  this  time.  A  cloud  was  on  their  hearts 
and  their  countenances,  by  day  and  night.  The  dea 
cons  were  called  in,  and  there  were  profound  consul 
tations  as  to  what  was  to  be  done.  The  neighboring 
clergy  were  consulted,  and  it  was  soon  discovered 
that  they,  too,  were  beset  by  the  same  dangers.  In 
some  cases,  their  people  joined  the  Methodists ;  in 
others,  they  imitated  them  by  evening  meetings  for 
prayer  and  mutual  exhortation.  The  very  air  at  last 
seemed  impregnated  with  the  electric  fluid.  Not  only 
men  of  a  religious  turn  seemed  in  a  state  of  unusual 
excitement,  but  the  cold,  the  careless,  the  worldly,  be 
gan  to  ask,  What  shall  we  do  to  be  saved  ?  Attempts 
were  made  in  some  places  to  preach  down  the  rising 
tempest  as  an  illusion.  Parson  Elliot,  of  Fairfield,  gave 
it  battle,  as  I  have  stated,  declaring  that  in  religion, 
as  well  as  in  the  affairs  of  life,  a  steady,  tranquil  de 
votion  was  better  than  sudden  and  irregular  storms 
of  fervor. 

Nevertheless,  the  movement  could  not  be  arrested. 
My  father,  who  was,  I  think,  a  far-seeing  man,  did 
not  attempt  to  breast  the  shock.  He  took  a  wiser 
course.  He  adopted  evening  meetings,  first  at  the 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  217 

church,  and  afterward  at  private  -houses.  No  doubt, 
also,  he  put  more  fervor  into  his  Sabbath  discourses. 
Deacons  and  laymen,  gifted  in  speech,  were  called 
upon  to  pray  and  exhort,  and  tell  experiences  in  the 
private  meetings,  which  were  now  called  conferences. 
A  revival  of  religious  spirit  arose  even  among  the 
orthodox.  Their  religious  meetings  soon  became 
animated,  and  were  speedily  crowded  with  interested 
worshipers  or  eager  lookers-on.  At  the  same  time, 
the  church  was  newly  shingled  and  freshly  painted ; 
the  singing  choir  was  regenerated ;  the  lagging  salary 
of  my  father  was  paid  up,  and  as  winter  approached, 
his  full  twenty  cords  of  wood  were  furnished  by  his 
people  according  to  the  contract. 

And  yet  the  wolf  was  all  the  while  stealing  the 
sheep  !  Nevertheless,  my  father's  church  increased, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  dreaded  Methodists  con 
verted  a  large  number  of  the  idle,  dissipated,  and  ir 
religious,  who  had  become,  like  Ephraim  of  old,  so 
joined  to  idols,  that  there  seemed  no  other  way  than  to 
let  them  alone.  But  for  Methodism,  this  had  undoubt 
edly  been  their  fate.  And  thus  what  seemed  a  mania, 
wrought  regeneration  ;  thus  orthodoxy  was  in  a  con 
siderable  degree  methodized,  and  Methodism  in  due 
time  became  orthodoxed.  Years  passed  on,  and  now 
there  are  two  bright  places  of  worship  in  Ridge- 
field;  one  Methodist  and  one  Congregational,  and 
both  filled  with  worshipers.  The  people  of  the  latter 
consist  for  the  most  part  of  the  staid,  sober, 

VOL.  I.— 10 


218  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

middle-aged  class :  those  of  the  former — though  the 
church  had  its  rise  in  a  kitchen — comprise  many  re 
spectable  citizens,  with  a  full  proportion  of  the  gen 
tler  sex,  who  comprehend  and  employ  the  advantages 
of  coquettish  French  bonnets,  trimmed  with  wreaths 
of  artificial  flowers !  Moreover,  the  clergymen  of 
the  two  churches  exchange  with  each  other,  and  the 
professors  of  both  are  mutually  admitted  to  the  com 
munion  tables.  Let  us  never  judge  too  harshly  of  any 
movement,  which,  though  it  may  develop  some  frail 
ties,  has  evidently  a  religious  basis.  Folly,  affecta 
tion,  vulgarity,  are  always  fit  objects  of  ridicule,  even 
when  clothed  in  a  sanctimonious  garb,  but  in  letting 
our  arrows  fly  at  vice,  we  should  ever  be  scrupulous 
not  to  wound  virtue. 


LETTER  XVI. 

The  Three  Deacons. 
MY  DKAK  C****** 

It  may  be  amusing,  perhaps  profitable,  to  give 
here  a  few  sketches  of  the  remarkable  characters  of 
Ridgefield,  at  the  opening  of  the  present  century. 
Some  were  types  of  their  time ;  others,  however  ec 
centric,  were  exemplifications  of  our  race  and  our 
society,  influenced  by  peculiar  circumstances,  and 
showing  into  what  fashions  this  stuff  of  humanity 


HISTORTCAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  219 

may  be  wrought.  They  were,  moreover,  among  the 
monuments  that  are  still  prominent  in  my  recollec 
tion,  and  seem  to  me  an  essential  part  of  the  social 
landscape  which  encircled  my  youth. 

I  begin  with  the  three  deacons  of  my  father's  par 
ish.  First  was  Deacon  Olmstead,  full  threescore  years 
and  ten  at  the  opening  of  the  present  century.  His 
infancy  touched  upon  the  verge  of  Puritanism — the 
days  of  Increase  and  Cotton  Mather.  The  spirit  of 
the  Puritans  lived  in  his  heart,  while  the  semblance 
of  the  patriarchs  lingered  in  his  form.  He  was  fully 
six  feet  high,  with  broad  shoulders,  powerful  limbs, 
and  the  august  step  of  a  giant.  His  hair  was  white,  and 
rolled  in  thin  curls  upon  his  shoulders  :  he  was  still 
erect,  though  he  carried  a  long  cane,  like  that  of  fa 
ther  Abraham  in  the  old  pictures,  representing  him 
at  the  head  of  his  kindred  and  his  camels,  going  from 
the  land  of  Haran  to  the  land  of  Canaan.  Indeed, 
he  was  my  personification  of  the  great  progenitor  of 
the  Hebrews ;  and  when  my  father  read  from  the 
twelfth  chapter  of  Genesis,  how  he  and  Lot  and  their 
kindred  journeyed  forth,  I  half  fancied  it  must  be 
Deacon  Olmstead  under  another  name. 

I  know  not  if  there  be  such  men  now — so  grand,  yet 
so  simple  ;  so  wise,  yet  so  good ;  so  proud,  yet  so  meek 
and  lowly.  It  is  doubtless  the  cant  of  each  genera 
tion  in  its  age  and  decrepitude,  to  degrade  the  present 
and  magnify  the  past,  perhaps  because  the  heart  is  a 
little  jaded  and  sickened  with  the  disappointments 


220  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

which  press  heavily  upon  it,  and  naturally 'turns  with 
disgust  at  these,  to  bestow  a  kind  of  worship  upon  the 
shades  which  stalk  along  the  distant  horizon  of  youth 
ful  remembrances.  Perhaps  there  is  also  something 
more  personal  and  selfish  in  this  process,  for  vanity 
often  lingers  even  in  the  wreck  of  our  existence.  Thus 
an  old  man  tottering  to  the  grave,  not  unfrequently 
boasts  of  the  feats  he  performed  in  his  youth ;  and 
the  aged  dame — gray,  wrinkled,  and  paralytic — pa 
rades  the  charms  of  her  maidenhood.  A  vain  conceit, 
a  swelling  self-appreciation,  often  mingle  themselves 
unconsciously  in  our  thoughts,  and  as  we  cannot  boast 
of  the  present,  which  -is  sliding  from  us,  we  find  relict 
and  satisfaction  in  glorifying  the  past,  which  we  still 
claim  as  our  own.  And  again,  in  age,  we  are  no 
doubt  liable  to  self-deception,  from  looking  backward 
over  an  extended  view,  and  taking  the  things  which 
rise  up  like  monuments  above  all  around  them,  as 
the  representatives  of  their  day  and  generation,  while 
in  fact  they  are  only  their  exceptions  and  marvels. 

At  all  events,  there  is  an  impression,  I  think,  that 
the  great  men  of  the  past  century  in  New  England 
have  not  their  representatives  in  the  present  genera 
tion,  especially  in  personal  appearance  and  character ; 
yet  it  is  probable  that  our  race  is  not  really  degener 
ated  either  in  its  physical  or  moral  standard.  There 
was  something  stately,  no  doubt,  in  the  costume  of 
the  olden  time :  there  was  also  a  corresponding  air 
of  starchness  in  the  carriage.  A  cocked  hat  and 


HISTORICAL,   AXECDOTICAL,   ETC.  221 

powdered  wig  made  it  necessary  for  a  man  to  demean 
himself  warily,  like  an  Italian  porter  who  carries  a 
tub  of  water  upon  his  head.  Thus  guised,  even 
little  Dr.  Marsh,*  of  Wethersfield,  whom  I  remember 
in  his  antique  costume,  was  quite  a  portly  gentleman. 
The  long  powdered  queues,  the  small-clothes  and 
knee-buckles,  the  white-top  boots  and  silk  stockings, 
with  the  majestic  tread  of  a  Humphries,  a  Daggett, 
or  a  Dana — who  flourished  forty  or  fifty  years  ago 
in  the  high  places  of  Connecticut — no  doubt  made 
these  leaders  of  society  look  like  the  born  lords  of  cre 
ation.  In  comparison,  the  simple  short-cropped,  pan. 
talooned  gentlemen,  who  now  fill  the  same,  or  similar 

stations — the  T 's,  E 's,  and  S  . . .  .'s — may 

seem  a  degenerate  race.  Yet  if  you  subject  these  to 
any  positive  test — though  it  must  be  admitted  that 
manners  have  lost  something  of  their  polish  and  much 

*  Rev.  John  Marsh,  D.D.,  of  Wethersfield,  was  the  last  of  the  Connecti 
cut  clergy  to  give  up  the  wig.  I  have  often  seen  him  in  it,  though  he  left 
it  off  a  short  time  before  his  death.  Once,  when  he  was  on  a  journey,  he 
stopped  overnight  at  a  tavern.  On  going  to  bed,  he  took  off  his  wig 
and  hung  it  up.  A  servant  maid  happened  to  see  it,  and  ran  down  in 
preat  terror  to  her  mistress,  saying,  "  Ma'am,  that  minister  has  took  off 
his  head  and  hung  it  up  on  a  nail !" 

For  many  years  he  was  accustomed  to  mount  his  old  chaise  and  set 
off  with  Mrs.  Marsh  to  attend  the  annual  commencement  at  Cambridge 
College.  Everybody  knew  him  along  the  road,  and  bowing,  as  he  pass 
ed,  said,  "  How  d'ye  do,  Dr.  Marsh  ?"  At  last  he  dismissed  his  wig; 
but  now,  as  he  went  along,  nobody  recognized  him.  It  was  evident  that 
his  wig  was  necessary  to  insure  the  accustomed  and  grateful  salute :  so, 
on  his  journeys  to  commencement  ever  after,  he  put  it  on,  though  ha 
discarded  it  at  other  times.  He  died  A.  D.  1820,  aged  79. 

Dr.  Marsh  was  a  man  of  great  learning  and  politeness  and  high  re 
spectability.  The  Rev.  John  Marsh,  now  of  New  York,  the  distinguished 
advocate  of  the  cause  of  temperance,  is  his  son. 


222  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

of  their  dignity — they  will  doubtless  be  found  to  be 
about  as  tall  and  as  talented,  and  perhaps  as  virtuous 
as  their  predecessors.  At  the  same  time,  I  suspect  it 
will  be  also  discovered  that  the  great  mass  of  society 
is  elevated  in  many  things  above  the  corresponding 
portions  of  the  community  in  the  early  days  of  which 
I  speak. 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  there  is  no  doubt  that  Dea 
con  Olmstead  was  in  all  things  a  noble  specimen  of 
humanity — an  honor  to  human  nature — a  shining 
light  in  the  Church.  I  have  spoken  of  him  as  hav 
ing  something  grand  about  him,  yet  I  remember  how 
kindly  he  condescended  to  take  me,  a  child,  on  his 
knee,  and  how  gently  his  great  brawny  fingers  en 
circled  my  infant  hand.  I  have  said  he  was  wise ; 
yet  his  book  learning  was  small,  though  it  might 
have  been  as  great  as  that  of  Abraham,  or  Isaac,  or 
Jacob.  He  knew  indeed  the  Bible  by  heart,  and  that 
is  a  great  teacher.  He  had  also  lived  long,  and  prof 
ited  by  observation  and  experience.  Above  all,  he 
was  calm,  just,  sincere,  and  it  is  wonderful  how  these 
lamps  light  up  the  path  of  life.  I  have  said  he  was 
proud,  yet  it  was  only  toward  the  seductions  of  the 
world  :  to  these  he  was  hard  and  stern  :  to  his  God, 
he  was  simple,  obedient,  and  docile  as  a  child :  toward 
his  kindred  and  his  neighbor,  toward  the  poor,  to 
ward  the  suffering — though  not  so  soft — he  was  sym 
pathetic  as  a  sister  of  charity. 

Some  men  seem  to  imagine  that  the  heart  should 


DEACON  OLMSTEAD.    Vol.  1,  p.  222. 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAI,,  ETC.  223 

grow  alien  to  man  as  it  draws  nigh  to  God  ;  that  piety, 
burning  brightly,  dims,  if  it  does  not  extinguish,  the 
lamp  of  love  and  friendship  and  social  impulses.  They 
look  upon  religion  as  the  serpent  of  Moses,  and  human 
affections  as  the  snakes  of  the  Egyptian  priests,  and  in 
their  view  the  former  should  destroy  and  devour  the 
latter.  It  was  not  so  with  this  noble  old  man.  His 
Christianity  did  not  take  from  the  stature  of  his  hu 
manity.  It  was,  indeed,  as  a  Christian  that  his  character 
was  most  distinctly  marked ;  yet  he  was  no  ascetic,  for 
he  enjoyed  life  and  its  comforts:  he  did  not  disdain 
its  wealth — he  toiled  for  it  and  obtained  it.  He  lived 
— as  a  man,  a  father,  a  member  of  society — a  large 
and  generous  life,  for  he  had  a  large  and  generous 
nature.  Had  this  been  all,  he  would  still  have 
passed  to  his  grave  beloved  and  honored  ;  but  there 
was  much  more,  His  religion  was  large,  grand,  im 
posing,  like  his  person.  He  believed  with  such  a 
clear,  manly  faith,  that  as  he  walked  abroad,  you 
felt  that  God  and  eternity  were  realities  to  him — and 
by  irresistible  influence,  they  became  realities  to  you 
—like  the  sun  and  the  earth.  When  you  heard  him 
pray — as  I  have  often  done — you  knew  that  God  was 
there.  How  sublime  is  such  a  man  living  such  a  life, 
even  though  he  was  but  a  simple  country  farmer ! 

I  must  now  present  a  somewhat  different  portrait — 
that  of  Deacon  John  Benedict.  He  was  a  worthy  old 
man,  and  enjoyed  many  claims  to  respect.  He  was  not 
only  a  deacon,  but  a  justice  of  the  peace;  moreover, 


^1J1  LKTTKKS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

he  was  the  Father  of  Aunt  Delight — of  whom  1  de 
sire  ever  to  speak  with  reverence.  She,  not  being  a 
beauty,  was  never  married,  and  hence,  having  no 
children  of  her  own,  she  combed  and  crammed  the 
heads  of  other  people's  children.  In  this  way  she 
was  eminently  useful  in  her  day  and  generation.  The 
Deacon  respected  the  law,  especially  as  it  was  admin 
istered  in  his  own  person.  He  was  severe  upon  those 
who  violated  the  statutes  of  the  State,  but  one  who 
violated  the  statutes  of  Deacon  John  Benedict  com 
mitted  the  unpardonable  sin.  He  was  the  entire  po 
lice  of  the  meeting-house  on  Sunday,  and  not  a  boy 
or  girl,  or  even  a  bumblebee,  could  offend,  without 
3ondign  punishment. 

Nevertheless,  the  Deacon  is  said  in  one  case — 7-nther 
before  my  time — to  have  met  his  match.  There  was  in 
the  village  a  small,  smart,  nervous  woman,  with  a  vig 
orous  clack,  which,  once  set  going,  was  hard  to  stop. 
One  day  she  was  at  church,  and  having  carried  her  din 
ner  of  mince-pie  in  a  little  cross-handled  basket,  she  sot 
it  down  under  the  seat.  In  the  midst  of  sermon-time, 
a  small  dog  came  into  the  pew,  and  getting  behind 
her  petticoats,  began  to  devour  the  pie.  She  heard 
what  was  going  on,  and  gave  him  a  kick.  Upon  this 
the  dog  backed  out  with  a  yelp,  but  bringing  the  din 
ner  basket  hung  across  his  neck,  with  him.  Back,  back 
he  went,  tail  first,  across  the  pew  into  the  broad  aisle. 

"  Oh  dear !"  said  the  woman,  in  a  shrill  voice — 
"the  dog's  got  my  dinner!    There!  I've  spoken  loud 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  225 

in  meeting-time  !  What  will  Deacon  Benedict  say  ? 
"Why  !  I'm  talking  all  the  time.  There  it  goes  agin. 
What  shall  I  du?" 

"  Hold  your  tongue !"  said  the  Deacon,  who  was 
in  his  official  seat,  fronting  the  explosion.  These 
words  operated  like  a  charm,  and  the  nervous  lady 
was  silent.  The  next  day  Deacon  John  appeared  at 
the  house  of  the  offender,  carrying  a  calf-bound  vol 
ume  in  his  hand.  The  woman  gave  one  glance  at  the 
book,  and  one  at  the  Deacon.  That  was  enough : 
it  spoke  volumes,  and  the  man  of  the  law  returned 
home,  and  never  mentioned  the  subject  afterward. 
This  is  the  whole  of  the  story  as  it  was  reported  to 
me  in  my  youth. 

Deacon  Hawley  was  very  unlike  either  of  his  two 
associates  whom  I  have  described.  He  was  younger, 
and  of  a  peculiarly  mild  and  amiable  temper.  His 
countenance  wore  a  tranquil  and  smooth  expression. 
His  hair  was  fine  and  silky,  and  lay,  as  if  oiled, 
close  to  his  head.  He  had  a  soft  voice,  and  an  ear 
for  music.  He  was  a  cabinet-maker  by  trade,  a  chor 
ister  by  choice,  a  deacon  by  the  vote  of  the  church*  a 
Christian  by  the  grace  of  God.  In  each  of  these 
things  he  found  his  place,  as  if  designed  for  it  by  na 
ture  and  Providence. 

How  easily  did  life  flow  on  for  him  !     How  differ 
ent  was  its  peaceful  current,  from  the  battle  waged 
by  Granther  Baldwin — whom  I  shall  soon  describe — 
from  the  beginning,  and  ceasing  only  when  death  put 
10* 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

his  cold  finger  on  the  heart  and  silenced  it  forever. 
Oh  nature !  thou  art  a  powerful  divinity,  sometimes 
moulding  the  heart  in  love  and  charity,  and  some 
times  as  if  in  bitterness  and  spite.  Let  those  who 
become  the  j  udges  of  man  here  below,  make  due  al 
lowance  for  these  things,  as  no  doubt  the  Judge 
hereafter  will  consider  them  in  adjusting  each  man's 
account. 

In  worldly  affairs  as  well  as  spiritual,  Deacon 
Hawley's  path  was  straight  and  even  :  he  was  success 
ful  in  business,  beloved  in  society,  honored  in  the 
church.  Exceedingly  frugal  by  habit  and  disposition, 
he  still  loved  to  give  in  charity,  though  he  told  not 
the  world  of  it.  When  he  was  old,  his  family  being 
well  provided  for,  he  spent  much  of  his  time  in  cast 
ing  about  to  find  opportunities  of  doing  good.  Once 
he  learned  that  a  widow,  who  had  been  in  good  cir 
cumstances,  was  struggling  with  poverty.  He  was 
afraid  to  offer  money  as  charity,  for  fear  of  wound 
ing  her  pride — the  more  sensitive,  perhaps,  because 
of  her  change  of  condition.  He  therefore  intimated 
that  he  owed  a  debt  of  fifty  dollars  to  her  late  hus 
band,  and  wished  to  pay  it  to  her. 

"And  how  was  that?"  said  the  lady,  somewhat 
startled. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  the  Deacon.  "  About  five 
and  twenty  years  ago,  soon  after  you  were  married, 
I  made  some  furniture  for  your  husband — to  the 
amount  of  two  hundred  dollars.  I  have  been  look- 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTIOAI.,  KTC.  22* 

ing  over  the  account,  and  find  that  I  rather  over 
charged  him,  in  the  price  of  some  chairs ;  that  is,  I 
could  have  afforded  them  at  somewhat  less.  I  have 
added  up  the  interest,  and  here,  madam,  is  the 
money." 

The  widow  listened,  and,  as  she  suspected  the 
truth,  the  tears  came  to  her  eyes.  The  Deacon  com 
prehended  all  in  an  instant :  he  did  not  pause  to 
reply,  but  laid  the  money  on  the  table  and  departed. 

Another  trait  of  this  good  man  was  his  patriotism. 
The  prosperity  of  the  country  seemed  always  to  be 
in  his  heart — a  source  of  gratification  to  himself  and 
a  cause  of  thanksgiving  to  God.  His  conversation, 
his  prayers,  were  full  of  these  sentiments.  Though 
of  moderate  intellectual  gifts,  his  temper  was  so  even, 
his  desires  so  just,  that  his  judgment  was  almost  in 
fallible  ;  and  hence  he  exercised  a  large,  though 
quiet  and  unseen  influence  upon  other  men.  It  is 
strange,  in  this  world,  to  see  a  man  who  always  and 
under  all  circumstances,  seems  to  have  as  his  master 
motive — the  wish  to  do  just  right.  Yet  such  a  man 
was  Deacon  Hawley.* 

I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  the  term  deacon  is  asso 
ciated  in  many  minds  with  a  certain  littleness,  and 
especially  a  sort  of  affectation,  a  cant  in  conversation, 
an  I-am-holier-than-thou  air  and  manner.  I  remem 
ber  Deacon  C  . . . .  of  H  . . . .,  who  deemed  it  proper 

*  See  note  I.  p.  MO. 


2l'S  LETTKRS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

to  become  scriptural,  and  to  talk  as  much  as  possible 
like  Isaiah.  He  was  in  partnership  with  his  son  La 
ertes,  and  they  sold  crockery  and  furniture.  One  day 
a  female  customer  came,  and  the  old  gentleman  being 
engaged,  went  to  call  his  son,  who  was  in  the  loft 
above.  Placing  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  he 
said,  attuning  his  voice  to  the  occasion,  "La-ar-tes, 
descend — a  lady  waits !"  Deacon  C  . . . .  sought  to 
signalize  himself  by  a  special  respect  to  the  wa.ys  of 
Providence :  so  he  refused  to  get  insurance  against  fire, 
declaring  that  if  the  Lord  wished  to  burn  down  his 
house  or  his  barn,  he  should  submit  without  a  mur 
mur.  He  pretended  to  consider  thunder  and  light 
ning  and  conflagrations  as  special  acts  of  the  Al 
mighty,  and  it  was  distrusting  Providence  to  attempt 
to  avert  their  effects.  Deacon  Hawley  had  none  of 
these  follies  or  frailties.  Though  a  deacon,  he  was  still 
a  man  ;  though  aspiring  to  heaven,  he  lived  cheerily 
on  earth ;  though  a  Christian,  he  was  a  father,  a 
neighbor,  and,  according  to  his  rank  in  life,  a  gentle 
man,  having  in  all  things  the  feelings  and  manners 
appropriate  to  each  of  these  relations. 

This  good  man  is  not  living:  he  died  not  many 
years  since  at  the  age  of  ninety-one,  enjoying  to  the 
last  good  health,  and  that  tranquillity  of  mind  and 
body  sometimes  vouchsafed  to  the  aged  after  the  heat 
and  burden  of  active  life.  I  look  back  upon  his  mem 
ory  as  a  strip  of  sunshine  bursting  from  the  clouds, 
and  falling  upon  the  landscape  of  life,  to  make  us  feel 


HISTOEICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,    KTC.  229 

that  there  is  light  in  the  world,  and  that  every  man — 
even  those  of  humble  capacity  and  humble  position — 
may  possess  it,  use  it,  glorify  and  disseminate  it.  Such 
a  life  indeed  tends  to  rob  existence  of  its  bitterness, 
and  to  give  dignity  to  man  and  glory  to  God ! 


LETTER    XVII. 

'fhe  Federalist  and  the  Democrat — Colonel  Bradley  and  General  Sing — 
Comparison  of  New  England  with  European  Villages. 

MY   DEA.B   C****** 

From  the  ecclesiastic  notabilities  of  Eidgefield  I 
turn  for  a  moment  to  the  secular.  And  first,  Colonel 
Bradley  claims  my  notice,  for  he  was  the  leading  cit 
izen  of  the  place,  in  station,  wealth,  education,  and 
power  of  intellect.  He  was  a  tall,  gaunt,  sallow  man, 
a  little  bent  at  the  period  of  my  recollection,  for  he 
was  then  well  stricken  in  years.  He  lived  in  a  two- 
story  white  house,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  main  street, 
and  on  the  western  side.  This  was  of  ample  dimen 
sions,  and  had  a  grave,  antique  air,  the  effect  of  which 
was  enhanced  by  a  row  of  wide-arching  elms,  lining  the 
street.  It  stood  on  a  slight  elevation,  and  somewhat 
withdrawn  from  the  road ;  the  fence  in  front  was 
high  and  close  ;  the  doors  and  windows  were  always 
shut,  even  in  summer.  I  know  not  why,  but  this 


230  LKTTERS — BIOOEAPHICAL, 

place  had  a  sort  of  awfulness  about  it :  it  seemed  to 
have  a  spirit  and  a  voice,  which  whispered  to  the 
passer-by,  "  Go  thy  way :  this  is  the  abode  of  one 
above  and  beyond  thee  1" 

In  order  to  comprehend  the  impression  likely  to  be 
made  by  such  a  sombre  tenement,  you  must  remember 
the  general  aspect  of  our  country  villages  at  that  time, 
and  indeed  at  the  present  time.  Each  house  was 
built  near  the  street,  with  a  yard  in  front  and  a  gat- 
den  beside  it.  The  fences  were  low,  and  of  light, 
open  pickets  or  slats,  made  to  exclude  cattle,  pigs, 
and  geese,  which  then  had  the  freedom  of  the  place. 
There  was  a  cheerful,  confiding,  wide,  open  look  all 
around.  Everybody  peeped  from  the  windows  into 
everybody's  grounds.  The  proprietor  was  evidently 
content  to  be  under  your  eye ;  nay,  as  you  passed 
along,  his  beets  and  carrots  in  long  beds ;  his  roses 
and  peonies  bordering  the  central  walk ;  the  pears 
and  peaches  and  plums  swinging  from  the  trees,  all 
seemed  to  invite  your  observation.  The  barn,  having 
its  vast  double  doors  in  front,  and  generally  thrown 
open,  presented  its  interior  to  your  view,  with  all  its 
gathered  treasures  of  hay,  oats,  rye,  and  flax.  Near 
by,  but  yet  apart,  stood  the  crib  for  the  Indian  corn, 
showing  its  laughing,  yellow  ears  between  the  slats, 
designed  to  give  circulation  to  the  air. 

There  was  in  all  this  a  liberty  and  equality  which 
belonged  to  the  age.  These  had  their  foundation, 
partly  at  least,  in  two  sources — a  love  of  an  open, 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  231 

unobstructed  view,  and  a  sort  of  communal  famil 
iarity  in  the  intercourse  of  society.  The  first  settlers 
of  the  country  found  it  covered  with  forests,  which, 
while  they  sheltered  the  lurking  Indian,  the  poach 
ing  wolf,  and  the  prowling  bear,  also  obstructed 
cultivation.  Trees  were  then  the  great  enemy,  and 
to  exterminate  them  was  the  first  great  battle  of 
life.  In  those  days  men  became  tree-haters.  The 
shadow  of  the  wood  was  associated  with  dearth  and 
danger — the  open  space  with  plenty  and  peace.  It 
was  not  till  long  after,  when  the  burning  sun  of  our 
summers  had  taught  the  luxury  of  shade,  that  the 
people  of  New  England  discovered  their  mistake,  and 
began  to  decorate  their  streets  and  pleasure-grounds 
with  trees. 

In  these,  the  primeval  days  of  our  history,  men 
gathered  in  the  village  were  mutual  protectors  one 
of  the  other  ;  there  was  a  bond  of  sympathy  between 
them,  founded  in  necessity,  and  this  led  to  confidence, 
and  confidence  to  familiarity.  Equality  of  intercourse, 
with  a  general  equality  of  feeling,  were  the  results. 
And  besides,  wealth  had  not  accumulated  in  the  hands 
of  particular  individuals  or  in  society  generally.  The 
habits  therefore  were  simple,  and  the  tastes  of  the 
people  demanded  little  beyond  the  means  and  usages 
of  mere  comfort.  The  love  of  embellishment  gradu 
ally  crept  over  society,  but  at  the  period  of  which  I 
speak,  it  had  not,  in  Eidgefield  and  other  villages  in  Con 
necticut,  orone  bevond  the  elements  I  have  described. 


232  T.I.TTKKS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

The  American  who  travels  in  foreign  countries 
marked  with  the  vestiges  of  feudal  times,  and  the  con 
sequent  division  of  society  -into  castes,  will  be  forcibly 
struck  with  the  contrast  which  these  things  present 
to  a  New  England -village.  As  you  pass  through 
France,  or  Italy,  or  Germany,  or  Spain,  you  will  find 
the  houses  and  grounds  inclosed  by  high  stone  and 
mortar  walls,  which  not  only  hide  them  from  the 
view  of  the  passer-by,  but  are  a  positive  defense 
against  intrusion.  The  proprietors  bar  you  out,  as  if 
they  not  only  feared  your  entrance,  but  suspected  you 
of  having  the  evil  eye,  and  you  must  not  therefore 
look  upon  them  or  their  possessions.  The  walls  are 
generally  high  and  forbidding  in  proportion  to  the 
rank  of  the  proprietor :  a  palace  is  often  a  veritable 
castle,  with  its  moat,  bastions,  portcullis,  and  warder ; 
and  all  this  is  imitated,  as  far  as  may  be,  from  the 
chateau  down  to  the  bare  and  desolate  tenement  of 
John  Smith  and  Tom  Jones.  The  doors  or  gates  of 
the  rich  are  of  massive  bronze  or  ponderous  oak,  and 
fastened  with  formidable  locks.  You  can  only  enter 
by  permission,  and  under  the  eye  of  a  porter,  who 
scrutinizes  you  closely.  This  is  true  not  only  of 
Paris,  but  of  all  the  neighboring  towns,  great  and 
small.  It  is  the  same  throughout  the  French  empire. 
Even  in  the  villages,  which  consist  of  a  crowded 
mass  of  tenements,  like  the  mean  suburbs  of  a  city, 
every  house  is  a  prison,  built  of  stone  and  mortar, 
and  not  merely  denying  entrance,  but  shutting  out, 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAI..    KTC. 

as  far  as  possible,  the  chance  surveillance  of  neigh 
bors  and  travelers.  This  is  the  system  throughout 
the  continent.  I  have  often  felt  almost  suffocated 
in  walking  and  riding  in  the  environs  of  Florence 
and  Rome,  and  other  European  cities,  on  finding 
myself  confined  in  a  narrow  lane,  some  twelve  or 
fifteen  feet  wide,  with  walls  so  high  on  either  side 
as  to  render  it  impossible  to  look  over  them.  This 
is  not  only  true  within  the  cities,  and  their  immediate 
precincts,  but  often  for  miles  around  ;  even  the  fields 
and  farms  are  frequently  thus  inclosed,  indicating  not 
only  fear  of  intrusion  or  violence,  but  a  repugnance 
to  mere  supervision. 

This  system  of  making  every  house  a  castle — not 
sacred  by  the  law,  as  in  our  country,  but  by  stone  and 
mortar — had  its  origin  in  the  violence  of  feudal  times, 
when  might  was  right.  It  is  a  system  begun  by  the 
kings,  imitated  by  the  barons,  and  perpetuated  in  so 
ciety  by  the  emulous  vanity  of  snobs  and  underlings. 
At  first  a  necessity,  it  came  at  last  to  be  a  fashion.  At 
present  it  is  little  more,  even  where  it  is  general  or 
universal.  Its  chief  use  now  is  to  defend — not  wealth 
or  tangible  property — but  the  fanciful  interests  of 
rank.  A  prince,  a  duke,  a  count,  must  not  become 
familiar  to  common  men.  His  heart  must  be  packed 
in  ice,  so  as  to  silence  every  large  and  philanthropic 
pulsation.  He  must  associate  only  with  his  peers. 
He  must  exclude  the  vulgar ;  he  must  live  aloof, 
enshrined  in  high  walls  and  gates  of  oak  and  brase, 


234  I.KTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

There  must  be  in  the  very  aspect  of  his  dwelling  a 
standing  proclamation  of  his  touch-me-not  exaltation. 
In  all  things  his  life  and  manners  must  conform  to  the 
dignity  of  his  house  and  his  home.  He  has  better 
blood  than  other  men,  and  this  would  be  contamina 
ted  by  contact  with  common  humanity.  The  rich 
bankers,  Messrs.  Shin  and  Shave,  must  imitate  this 
high,  titled  example ;  they  must  be  exclusive,  at  least 
to  all  beneath  them.  Messrs.  Grog  and  Prog,  the 
wealthy  grocers,  must  follow  suit  according  to  their 
kind. 

This  brick-and-mortar  exclusiveness  answers  an 
other  purpose  :  it  seems  to  sustain  the  theory  that  the 
interior  of  the  continental  home  is  inviolable.  Accord 
ing  to  this,  the  proprietor  lays  out  his  grounds  as  he 
pleases:  he  sleeps,  eats,  drinks,  dresses,  talks,  walks, 
and  amuses  himself  according  to  his  fancy.  He  does 
not  consult  his  neighbors  upon  any  of  these  things. 
He  is  lord  of  all  he  surveys  ;  not  only  his  walls,  but  the 
current  ideas  of  society  insure  him  a  complete  domestic 
and  social  independence.  So  long  as  he  does  not  med 
dle  with  politics  or  the  police,  he  sits  under  his  own 
vine  and  fig-tree,  with  none  to  make  him  afraid.  He 
has  no  apprehension  that  some  eavesdropping  ear,  or 
burglarious  gaze,  is  waiting  and  watching,  and  will 
show  him  up  to-morrow  in  a  Two  Penny  Tale  Teller. 

This  is  the  state  of  things,  as  it  appears  to  the  su 
perficial  observer,  and  hence  it  is  that  European  con 
tinental  life  has  great  fascinations  for  some  of  our 


HISTORICAL.   ANFCPOTICAT.,  FTC.  235 

American  exclusives.  They  think  it  delightful  to 
live  enshrined  in  high  walls,  and  to  do  as  they  please. 
But  let  us  reflect  and  count  the  cost.  Is  this  seeming 
social  independence  real,  permanent,  reliable  ?  In 
point  of  fact  nothing  is  more  hollow  and  false.  Life, 
liberty,  property,  are  placed  between  two  monsters, 
either  of  which  may  at  any  moment  rise  up  and  de 
vour  you.  The  government,  to  which  you  look  for 
protection,  is  a  despot,  and  full  of  eyes  staring  with 
suspicion.  Though  it  may  seem  to  smile  on  you, 
yet  it  has  your  dossier — that  is,  your  life,  opinions, 
tastes,  character — even  the  secrets  of  your  house  aad 
your  home — written  in  its  note-book.  The  police 
that  surrounds  you,  and  seems  to  protect  you,  may 
at  any  moment  denounce  and  destroy  you.  It  is  by 
privilege,  and  not  by  right,  that  you  live,  breathe, 
and  have  a  being.  On  the  other  hand,  the  people, 
whom  you  bar  out  and  defy — their  time  may  come, 
and  as  you  have  treated  them  with  scorn,  they  are 
likely  to  repay  you  with  vengeance. 

Is  not  our  American  system  of  mutual  confidence 
and  mutual  support,  infinitely  better  than  this  ?  It 
involves  sacrifices,  no  doubt.  Impertinence,  gossip, 
scandal,  will  thrive  in  a  state  of  social  equality  and 
mutual  dependence,  but  real  dignity  and  true  virtue 
will  not  seriously  suffer.  The  false  semblance,  the 
hollow  affectation  of  these,  may  be  stung,  but  it  will 
generally  be  to  good  and  wholesome  purpose.  And 
even  if  there  be  evils,  we  shall  learn  to  cure  them  in 


I.KTTKRS — BIOGRAPHICAL. 

time.  We  are  a  young  country,  and  are  trying  various 
experiments.  We  can  not  expect  to  leap  into  the  mil 
lennium  at  once.  It  has  taken  Europe — modern  Eu 
rope — more  than  a  thousand  years  to  learn  its  lessons 
in  philosophy,  art,  and  manners.  All  things  consid 
ered,  we  are  as  far  advanced  as  they,  and  that,  too, 
after  less  than  a  century  of  experience.  What  may 
we  not  hope  in  the  future,  and  at  no  distant  day  ? 
Let  us,  then,  be  of  good  cheer ! 

But  to  return.  Certainly  nothing  can  be  more 
strongly  in  contrast  with  our  frank,  confiding,  wide- 
open  New  England  village  than  this  suspicious,  sys 
tematic,  radical  exclusiveness  in  Continental  Europe. 
Impressed  with  an  early  love  of  the  simplicity  and 
equality  of  our  country  towns,  I  have  never  been 
able  to  conquer  the  disgust  with  which  I  have  looked 
upon  the  walled  houses  and  walled  towns  of  Europe. 
They  seem  to  me  anti-social,  unchristian,  not  merely 
bespeaking  their  barbarous  origin,  but  perpetuating 
the  seeds  of  violence  and  schism  in  the  bosom  of 
society,  which  will  ere  long  be  sown  on  the  wind 
to  produce  the  harvest  of  the  whirlwind.  If  this 
system  and  these  ideas  must  be  endured  in  monarch 
ical  regions,  they  should  not  be  introduced  into  this 
country.  I  am  happy  to  add  that  they  are  imitated 
by  few,  and  with  even  these,  they  are  worn  as  gar 
ments  that  sit  ill  upon  them,  and  consequently  pro 
voke  ridicule  rather  than  respect.  An  American  ex 
clusive  is  about  as  much  an  incongruity  in  our  society 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  L"1C.  237 

as  an  American  duke.  He  is  generally  without  real 
power,  and  those  he  attempts  to  influence  are  apt  to 
go  in  the  opposite  direction  from  that  which  he  points 
out. 

I  beg  pardon  for  this  wide  digression,  which,  how 
ever,  is  not  without  a  purpose.  Col.  Bradley  was  an 
exclusive.  His  cold,  distant  manner  bespoke  it.  He 
was,  I  believe,  an  honorable  man.  He  was  a  mem 
ber  of  the  church  ;  he  was  steady  in  his  worship,  and 
never  missed  the  sacrament.  He  was  a  man  of  edu 
cation,  and  held  high  offices.  His  commission  as 
colonel  was  signed  by  John  Jay,  president  of  the 
Continental  Congress,  and  his  office  of  Marshal  of  the 
District  of  Connecticut  was  signed  by  Washington. 
His  commission  as  judge*  of  the  County  Court  was 
signed  by  the  governor  of  the  State.  He  was,  as  I 
have  said,  the  most  distinguished  citizen  of  the  place, 
and  naturally  enough  imagined  that  such  a  position 
carried  with  it,  not  the  shadow,  but  the  substance  of 
power.  He  seldom  took  an  open  part  in  the  affairs 
of  the  town,  but  when  he  did,  he  felt  that  his  word 
should  be  law.  He  deemed  even  a  nod  of  his  head 
to  be  imperative  ;  people  were  bound  to  consult  his 
very  looks,  and  scenting  his  trail,  should  follow  in 
his  footsteps.  Like  most  proud  men  of  despotic  tem 
per,  he  sometimes  condescended  to  bring  about  his 
ends  by  puppets  and  wire  pullers.  Affecting  to  dis- 

*  See  note  I.  p.  522. 


238  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

dain  all  meddling,  he  really  contrived  openly  or  co 
vertly  to  govern  the  church  and  the  town.  When 
parties  in  politics  arose,  he  was  of  course 'a  federalist ; 
though  ostentatiously  standing  aloof  from  the  tarnish 
of  caucuses,  he  still  managed  to  fill  most  of  the  of 
fices  by  hi§  seen  or  unseen  dictation. 

Such  a  man  could  little  appreciate  the  real  spirit 
of  democracy,  now  rising,  like  a  spring-tide,  over 
Connecticut.  Believing  in  the  "  Good  old  way," 
he  sincerely  felt  that  innovation  was  synonymous 
with  ruin.  Thinking  all  virtue  and  all  wisdom  to 
be  centered  in  the  few,  he  believed  all  folly  and  mis 
chief  to  be  in  the  many.  The  passage  of  power  from 
the  former  to  the  latter,  he  regarded  with  unaffected 
horror.  The  sanctity  of  the  church,  the  stability  of 
the  law,  the  sacredness  of  home,  life,  and  property, 
all  seemed  to  him  put  at  hazard  if  committed  to  the 
rabble,  or  what  to  him  was  equivalent,  that  dreaded 
thing — democracy. 

He  was  certainly  a  man  of  ability,  well  read  in 
history,  and  of  superior  mental  gifts.  He  saw  the 
coming  storm,  which  soon  lowered  and  thundered  in 
the  sky  ;  but  he  neither  comprehended  its  force,  nor 
the  best  manner  of  combating  it.  He  had  not  those 
sensitive  feelers — the  gift  of  such  born  democrats  as 
Jefferson  and  Yan  Buren — which  wind  their  invisible 
and  subtle  threads  among  the  masses,  and  bring  home 
to  the  shrewd  sensorium  an  account  of  every  trem 
bling  emotion  in  the  breast  of  the  million.  In  fact 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  KTC.  '230 

so  far  as  the  mass,  the  people  were  concerned,  hf  was 
a  profound  owl,  seeing  deeply  into  the  nothingness  of 
night,  but  stark  blind  in  the  open  day  of  real  and 
pressing  action.  In  wielding  power,  put  into  his 
hands  by  authority,  he  was  a  strong  man  :  in  acqui 
ring  it  at  the  hands  of  democracy,  he  was  a  child. 

I  can  not  better  illustrate  his  character — and  the 
humor  of  his  day  and  generation — than  by  depicting 
one  of  our  town  meetings  of  this  era.  This  was  of 
course  held  in  my  father's  church,  according  to  cus 
tom.  At  an  early  hour  Col.  Bradley  was  there,  for 
he  was  punctual  in  all  things.  He  sat  apart  in  a  pew 
with  about  half  a  dozen  other  men,  the  magnates  of 
the  town.  In  other  pews  near  by,  sat  still  others, 
all  stanch  respectabilities.  These  were  the  leading 
federalists — persons  of  high  character,  wealth,  and 
influence.  They  spoke  a  few  words  to  each  other, 
and  then  relapsed  into  a  sort  of  dignified  silence. 
They  did  not  mingle  with  the  mass  :  they  might 
be  suspected  of  electioneering — of  seeking  to  exer 
cise  an  influence  over  the  minds  of  the  people.  That 
was  too  degrading  for  them :  it  might  do  for  Genera] 
King,  and  the  other  democrats  who  could  conde 
scend  to  such  things.  These  circulated  freely  in  the 
aisles,  giving  the  warm  right-hand  of  fellowship  to 
all  they  met,  especially  the  rabble.  Nevertheless,  the 
federalists  had  privately  determined  a  few  days  before 
on  whom  they  would  cast  their  votes,  and  being  a 
majority,  they  carried  the  day. 


210  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Thus  it  went  on  for  a  time.  But  gradually,  and 
year  by  year,  the  leaven  of  democracy  affected  more 
and  more  the  general  mass.  Federalism  held  itself 
haughtily  aloof  from  the  lower  classes,  while  democ 
racy  tendered  to  them  the  gratifying  signals  of  fra 
ternity.  Federalism  really  and  sincerely  distrusted 
the  capacity  of  the  people  to  govern  themselves,  ex 
cept  through  the  guidance  and  authority  of  the  supe 
rior  classes ;  democracy  believed,  or  pretended  to 
believe,  in  the  people,  and  its  works  were  according 
to  its  real  or  seeming  faith.  There  were  questions 
at  issue  between  the  parties,  which  involved  these  op 
posite  and  diverging  principles.  Shall  government  be 
a  republic,  having  an  oligarchical  bias,  and  commit 
ting  power  to  the  hands  of  the  few ;  or  shall  it  be  a 
democracy,  living  and  breathing  and  having  its  being 
from  the  constant  inspirations  of  the  whole  people  ? 
Shall  suffrage  be  limited  or  universal  ?  Shall  there 
be  perfect  religious  toleration?  Shall  there  be  no 
preference  in  regard  to  sects  ?  These  were  the  actual, 
pending  questions  in  Connecticut.  With  such  issues, 
the  parties  were  not  only  highly  excited,  but  there 
was  a  depth  of  sincerity  which  gave  a  certain  dignity 
even  to  party  strife. 

However  old-fashioned  it  may  seem,  I  still  IOOK 
back  upon  those  stiff  federalists,  sitting  in  their 
pews  like  so  many  judges  in  Israel — rigid  in  their 
principles,  hard,  but  honest  in  their  opinions — with 
a  certain  degree  of  respect.  Perhaps,  too,  they 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  241 

were  not  altogether  wrong,  though  the  battle  has 
gone  against  them.  If,  at  the  outset  of  our  govern 
ment,  which  was  launched  at  the  very  period  when 
the  French  Revolution  was  agitating  the  world  with 
its  turbulent  waves,  the  suffrage  had  been  universal, 
probably  we  should  have  gone  to  destruction  Fed 
eralism,  no  doubt,  locked  the  wheels  of  the  car  of 
state,  and  thus  stayed  and  regulated  its  progress,  till 
the  steep  was  passed,  and  we  were  upon  the  safe  and 
level  plain.  Theoretically  wrong,  according  to  pres 
ent  ideas,  federalism  was  useful  and  necessary  in  its 
day.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  its  spirit  of  patriotism 
is  not  imitated  by  all  modern  partisans. 

Col.  Bradley,  whom  I  have  described  as  the  head 
of  the  federal  party  in  Bidgefield,  was  pretty  nearly  a 
type  of  his  kind  in  those  days.  There  was  perhaps 
a  shade  of  Jesuitism  about  him,  a  love  of  unseen  in 
fluences,  the  exercise  of  invisible  power,  which  was 
personal  and  not  a  necessary  part  of  his  principles. 
I  perfectly  recollect  his  appearance  at  church,  and  the 
impression  he  made  upon  me.  He  was  bald,  and 
wore  a  black  silk  cap,  drawn  down  close  over  his 
eyes.  These  were  like  jet,  not  twinkling,  but  steady 
and  intense,  appearing  very  awful  from  the  dark  cav 
erns  in  which  they  were  set.  I  hardly  dared  to  look 
at  him,  and  if  perchance  his  slow  but  searching  gaze 
fell  upon  me,  I  started  as  if  something  had  wounded 
me.  At  long  intervals  he  came  to  our  house,  and 
though  he  was  of  course  a  supporter  of  my  father. 

VOL.  L— 11 


242  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

being  a  member  of  the  church,  I  had  the  impression 
that  everybody  breathed  thick  and  anxiously  while 
he  was  there,  and  felt  relieved  when  he  went  away. 
It  is  now  many  years  since  he  passed  to  his  tomb, 
yet  his  appearance  and  general  character  are  still 
fresh  in  my  memory.  He  was  not  loved,  but  on  the 
whole,  his  life  was  beneficial  to  the  community  in 
which  he  lived.  He  had  high  gifts  and  large  oppor 
tunities  :  if  he  did  not  do  all  the  good  he  might,  it 
was  certainly  rather  through  the  influence  of  original, 
constitutional  defects,  than  willing  and  chosen  obli 
quity  of  conduct. 

It  is  not  possible  to  conceive  of  two  persons  more 
unlike  than  the  one  I  have  just  sketched  and  General 
King.  The  former  was  tall,  thin,  dark  ;  the  latter 
was  of  middle  height,  stout,  erect,  and  florid.  The 
first  was  highly  educated,  meditative,  secret,  deep, 
cold,  circumspect ;  the  latter  was  unschooled,  yet 
intelligent ;  frank,  though  perhaps  superficial ;  impe 
rious,  yet  fearless  and  confiding.  Col.  Bradley  was 
a  federalist ;  Gen.  King  a  democrat.  These  two,  in 
deed,  were  the  leaders  of  the  two  great  political  par 
ties  in  Ridgefield. 

If  we  could  dive  into  the  heart  of  man,  and  dis 
cern  the  reasons  why  one  takes  this  .  ^.urse  and  an 
other  that ;  why  one  is  of  this  sect  .  a  religion,  or 
that  party  in  politics,  I  imagine  we  should  make 
some  curious  discoveries.  In  certain  cases  the  springs 
of  these  actions  are  open :  one  is  obviously  deter- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  243 

mined  in  his  choice  by  education  ;  another  manifestly 
derives  a  proclivity  from  family  influences  ;  another 
is  governed  by  his  social  position  ;  but  in  other  cases, 
we  are  left  to  guess  at  motives,  and  these  often  seem 
so  personal  and  selfish  as  to  reflect  little  honor  upon 
human  nature.  As  to  professed  politicians,  I  think 
mankind  generally,  without  being  suspected  of  cyni 
cism,  regard  them  as  choosing  their  party  on  the  same 
principles  that  they  would  choose  a  horse — in  both 
cases  selecting  that  which  they  can  best  mount  and 
ride.  They  look  upon  the  good  public  as  so  many 
donkeys,  made  to  be  used  for  hobbies  and  then  con 
temptuously  dismissed.  We  see  men  act  thus  openly 
and  shamelessly  every  day  of  our  lives,  and  strange 
to  say,  it  is  not  punished,  however  scandalous  it  may 
appear.  Nay,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  the  people 
rather  like  it. 

In  still  other  instances  the  causes  which  determine 
the  political  conduct  of  men  are  more  latent,  though 
not  the  less  selfish  and  personal.  We  are  very  apt  to 
see  according  to  our  point  of  view.  The  fable  of  the 
pigeon's  neck,  which  reflects  red  on  one  side  and  pur 
ple  on  the  other,  and  hence  leads  two  persons  in  op 
posite  positions  into  a  dispute  as  to  the  actual  color 
of  the  bird,  is  instructive.  One  man,  in  an  elevated 
condition  in  life,  and  having  large  possessions,  natu 
rally  inclines  to  magnify  the  importance  of  authority, 
and  the  respect  due  to  property.  Thus,  he  becomes 
a  federalist  or  a  conservative.  Another,  destitute  of 


244  LKTTKKS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

all  but  his  head  and  hands,  presses  the  claims  of 
labor,  and  exalts  the  rights  of  man.  He  becomes  a 
democrat.  In  these  instances,  persons  actually  con 
trolled  by  a  regard  to  their  several  positions,  through 
the  seductions  and  delusions  of  the  human  heart, 
generally  consider  themselves  as  actuated  by  an  ex 
clusive  regard  to  patriotism  and  principle.  I  am 
afraid  that  we  can  find  few  instances — at  least  in  the 
arena  of  politics — in  which  the  heart  of  man  rises 
above  this  fountain-head  of  selfishness. 

The  cases  in  which  the  manufacturer  sustains  pro 
tection  and  the  ship-owner  free-trade,  the  south 
ern  man  the  interests  of  slave  labor,  and  the  north 
ern  man  the  interests  of  free  labor,  are  similar  ex 
amples  of  selfishness,  though  somewhat  more  gross. 
It  might  seem,  then,  that  the  ballot-box  —  the 
great  depository  of  the  public  will,  and  the  source 
of  public  action  and  power  in  a  republican  govern 
ment — must  be  a  mass  of  corruption  ;  that  if  the  ma 
jority  of  votes  are  leavened  with  selfishness,  the  ag 
gregated  millions  cast  at  the  polls  must  be  an  offense 
in  the  sight  of  God.  Yet  in  truth  it  is  not  so.  The 
whole  result  is  really  a  very  intelligent  index  to  the 
actual  wants  of  the  country.  Suppose  every  man 
has  voted  selfishly,  the  accumulated  suffrage  shows 
where  the  weight  of  opinion  lies  as  to  the  entire  in 
terests  of  the  people.  And  even  when  we  consider 
the  juggles  of  politicians  who  make  loud  professions, 
only  to  obtain  office,  we  know  that  for  the  most  part, 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,   ETC.  245 

when  they  have  attained  it,  the  government  goes  on 
nearly  the  same,  whoever  may  administer  it.  Thus, 
on  the  whole,  the  ballot-box  develops  and  represents 
a  balance  of  good  sense  in  the  nation  that  outweighs 
even  the  multitudinous  vices,  follies,  and  foibles  of 
individuals. 

If  I  were  to  be  asked  what  made  Gen.  King  a  dem 
ocrat,  I  should  be  at  a  loss  to  answer.  He  was  fond 
of  authority :  his  whole  presence  and  manner  bespoke 
it.  His  carriage  was  erect,  his  head  set  back,  his 
chest  protruded.  His  hair  was  stiff  and  bristling, 
and  being  long  on  the  top,  was  combed  back  in  the 
manner  of  Gen.  Jackson's.  Like  him  he  had  a  deci 
dedly  military  air  and  character.  He  was,  no  doubt, 
a  very  good  man  on  the  whole,  but  I  imagine  he  was 
not  imbued  with  any  special  sympathy  for  the  masses, 
or  the  rights  of  man.  I  have  pretty  good  reason  to 
believe  that  his  natural  disposition  was  dictatorial — 
despotic.  It  is  related  that  one  day  he  came  into  the 
field  where  his  men  were  haying.  A  thunder-storm 
was  approaching,  and  he  commanded  the  laborers  in 
a  tone  of  authority  to  do  this  and  that,  thus  requiring 
in  fact  what  was  impossible.  Jaklin,  an  old  negro, 
noted  for  his  dry  wit,  being  present,  said  in  an  under 
tone — 

"  I'm  thankful  the  Lord  reigns." 

"  Why  so  ?"  said  a  bystander. 

"  Because,"  was  the  reply,  "  if  the  Lord  didn't 
reign,  the  Gineral  would  !" 


246  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Why,  then,  was  he  a  democrat?  Was  it  because 
Col.  Bradley  and  himself  were  rivals  in  trade,  rivals 
in  wealth,  rivals  in  position  ?  Was  it  that  by  a  nat 
ural  proclivity,  derived  from  this  relation,  he  became 
an  opponent  of  one  who  stood  in  his  way,  and  thus 
became  a  democrat  ?  Who  will  venture  to  solve  such 
questions  as  these  ? 

I  pray  you  not  to  consider  me  as  saying  any  thing 
invidious  of  Gen.  King.  He  was  really  a  man  to  be 
respected,  perhaps  loved,  even  though  he  was  not  of 
great  intellect,  or  morally  cast  in  the  mould  of  per 
fection.  He  had  plain  practical  sense,  perfect  sincer 
ity,  high  moral  courage,  an  open,  cheerful,  frank 
manner.  Be  it  understood  that  I  speak  from  my 
childish  recollections.  Such  is  the  impression  he 
made  upon  me.  Erect,  martial,  authoritative  as  he 
was.  I  still  liked  him,  for  to  me  he  was  kind,  al 
ways  asked  about  our  family,  and  was  particularly 
unlike  that  cold,  silent,  dark-browed  Col.  Bradley. 
His  whole  person  bespoke  manliness.  No  one  look 
ing  on  him  would  suspect  him  of  meanness,  in 
thought,  word,  or  deed.  He  was  eminently  success 
ful  in  business,  and  his  wealth,  at  length,  outstripped 
that  of  his  great  rival.  His  party  also  triumphed, 
and  he  became  the  first  man  of  the  place  in  position 
and  influence. 

If  thus  fortunate  in  these  respects,  he  was  even 
more  so  in  his  family.  He  had  ten  children — four 
sons  and  six  daughters:  all  reached  maturitv,  and 


HISTORICAL.    ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  247 

constituted  one  of  the  comeliest  groups  I  have  ever 
known.  The  girls  all  married,  save  one:  three  of  the 
sons — among  the  handsome  men  of  their  time — pro 
fessed  bachelorism  :  a  proof  of  what  all  shrewd  ob 
servers  know,  that  handsome  men,  spontaneously 
enjoying  the  smiles  of  the  sex,  feel  no  need  of  resign 
ing  their  liberty,  while  ugly  men  are  forced  to  capitu 
late  on  bended  knees,  and  accept  the  severe  condi 
tions  of  matrimony,  as  the  only  happy  issue  out  of 
their  solitude.  One  only,  Eufus  H.  King,  of  Al 
bany,  whom  I  have  already  mentioned,  took  upon 
himself  the  honors  of  wedlock.  All  these  persons 
possessed  that  happy  balance  of  good  sense,  good 
feelings,  good  looks,  and  good  manners,  which  in 
sures  success  and  respectability  in  life.  Is  not  such 
a  family  history  worthy  of  being  recorded  in  this 
booK  of  the  chronicles  of  Ridgefield  ? 


248  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER   XVIII. 

The  Ingertotts — Rer>.  Jonathan  Ingersoll — Lieutenant-governor  IngersoU — 
New  Haven  Bellas — A  chivalrous  Virginian  among  the  Connecticut  D.DSs 
—  Grace  IngersoU— A  New  Haven  Girl  at  Napoleon's  Court— Real  Ro 
mance — A  Puritan  in  a  Convent. 

MY  DEAR  C  ****** 

General  King's  house  stood  on  the  northern  slope 
of  a  small  swell  of  ground,  midway  between  the  two 
extremities  of  the  main  street,  and  on  the  western  side. 
It  was  a  rather  large  two-story  edifice,  always  neatly 
kept,  and  glowing  in  fresh  white  paint.  "Wealth  and 
respectability  in  the  full  tide  of  successful  experiment, 
were  as  readable  in  its  appearance  as  if  it  had  been 
so  written  in  front,  like  the  designation  of  a  railway 
station. 

Contiguous  to  this  fresh  and  flourishing  mansion, 
on  the  southern  side,  was  a  brown,  gable-roofed  house, 
with  two  venerable,  but  still  green  and  flourishing 
button-wood  trees  in  front.  The  building  was  mark 
ed  with  age,  the  surface  of  its  clapboards,  unprotected 
by  paint,  being  softened  and  spongy  through  the  in 
fluence  of  the  seasons.  The  roof  was  of  a  yellowish- 
green  tint,  imparted  by  a  gathering  film  of  moss.  The 
windows  were  contracted,  and  the  casing,  thin  and 
plain,  bespoke  the  architecture  of  our  day  of  small 
things.  All  aroxmd  was  rather  bare,  and  'the  little 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    KTC. 

recess  in  front,  open  and  un inclosed,  was  at  once 
shaven  close  and  desecrated  by  a  flock  of  geese  that 
every  night  made  it  their  camp-ground.  Nevertheless, 
there  was  a  certain  dignity  about  the  button-wood 
trees  in  front,  and  the  old  brown  house  in  the  rear, 
that  excited  respect  and  curiosity  in  the  beholder. 
There  was  indeed  some  reason,  for  this  was  the  home 
of  the  Ingersolls. 

The  Rev.  Jonathan  Ingersoll*  was  my  father's  im 
mediate  predecessor,  as  minister  of  the  First  Congre 
gational  Church  in  Ridgefield.  Though  he  has  been 
dead  three  fourths  of  a  century,  tradition  still  cher 
ishes  his  memory  as  an  able  preacher,  a  devoted  pas 
tor,  and  a  most  amiable  man.  In  my  boyhood  he 
had  long  since  passed  away,  but  his  widow  still  lin 
gered  in  the  old  brown  house  I  have  described.  She 
was  every  way  a  superior  woman — wise,  good,  lov 
ing,  and  beloved.  Her  husband's  mantle  descended 
upon  her  shoulders,  and  she  wore  it  worthily  before 
the  world  and  the  Church.  By  the  latter  she  was 
cherished  as  a  guardian  saint.  She  was  always  my 
father's  friend,  and  in  the  critical  and  difficult  pas 
sages  which  are  sure  to  arise  between  a  pastor  and 
his  people,  she  was  the  ready  and  efficient  peacemaker. 
I  remember  her,  though  faintly  and  as  a  dream,  yet 
one  in  which  I  saw  a  pale,  gray,  saintly  old  lady, 
almost  too  good  for  this  wicked  world. 


*  See  note  I.,  p.  516. 
11* 


2T)0  LKTTER8 — BIOGliA  PlilCAI,, 

Mr.  Ingersoll  had  a  large  family,  all  of  whom  were 
of  mature  age  at  the  period  of  my  childhood.  The 
youngest  daughter  was  wife  of  Gen.  King,  and  mother 
of  the  family  I  have  described.  Two  of  the  three  sons 
— Joseph  and  Moss — were  deaf  and  dumb,  and  occu 
pied  the  family  mansion  :  the  other  son  was  the  late 
Jonathan  Ingersoll,  of  New  Haven,  distinguished  by 
his  eminent  talents  and  many  virtues. 

Joseph  Ingersoll — according  to  my  recollection — 
v/as  a  plain,  solid,  dull-looking  man,  who  passed 
to  and  fro  with  rigid  directness,  never  smiling,  and 
seeming  to  take  little  interest  in  what  was  passing 
around  him.  Though  naturally  quick-minded,  and 
able  to  express  a  few  ideas  by  signs,  he  still  seemed 
to  shun  intercourse  with  the  world,  and  even  with 
his  friends  and  neighbors.  He  and  his  brother  Moss 
carried  on  the  farm.  He  rose  every  day  at  the 
same  hour ;  took  his  meals  and  retired  to  bed.  with 
the  precision  of  a  chronometer.  You  might  safely 
liavc  set  your  clock  by  him.  At  a  particular  time 
in  the  morning  he  went  to  the  fields,  where  he  labor- 
rd  with  the  steadiness  of  a  mill :  at  a  particular  time 
in  the  afternoon  or  evening  he  returned.  He  re 
volved  through  the  seasons,  performing  the  labors- 
due  to  each  with  the  same  exactitude.  Had  he  been 
u  machine,  wound  up  and  set  each  day,  he  could 
hardly  have  been  more  the  creature  of  routine. 

Moss  Ingersoll  was  singularly  unlike  his  brother 
Jcxenh.  While  the  latter  remained  a  bachelor,  the 


IlISTOItlt'AL,  ANKCDOTlCAr,,  KTf.  251 

loriner  \vasrnarried,  and  bad  a  family  of  several  chil 
dren.  He  was  of  a  sharp,  ready  mind,  social  in  his  dis 
position,  cheerful,  witty,  and  of  pleasing  personal  ap 
pearance  and  address.  His  whole  face  beamed  with 
intelligence ;  his  manners  bespoke  a  certain  natural 
refinement,  and  a  quick  sensibility  to  the  pleasures  of 
social  intercourse.  It  must  be  remembered  that  this 
was  long  prior  to  the  modern  art  of  teaching  the  deaf 
and  dumb ;  nevertheless,  his  father  had  taken  great 
pains  with  him,  and  had  given  him  some  instruction 
through  the  use  of  signs.  By  means  of  these,  Moss 
conversed  to  a  limited  extent  with  his  wife  and  chil 
dren,  and  indeed  the  whole  neighborhood.  He  came 
frequently  to  our  house,  and  was  a  great  favorite.  I 
learned  to  talk  with  him  a  little,  and  when  I  met 
him,  he  always  had  something  interesting  to  say. 
His  signs  were  descriptive,  and  displayed  a  turn  for 
humorous  associations.  Deacon  Olmstead  was  the  Big 
Cane ;  my  father  the  Bald  Pate ;  Gen.  King  the  Long 
Sword ;  Lieut.  Smith  the  See-Saw,  and  so  on.  He 
could  write  so  as  to  keep  accounts,  but  could  not 
read,  and  it  is  probable  his  range  of  abstract  ideas 
was  narrow.  His  ready  perceptions,  however,  gave 
him  a  large  acquaintance  with  common  things.  He 
even  seemed  to  comprehend  the  outlines  of  Chris 
tianity,  and  to  feel  the  obligations  of  conforming  to 
its  requisitions.  How  far  he  reached  into  the  pro- 
founder  depths  of  religion' — the  mysteries  of  God 
and  eternity,  of  man  and  his  vast  capacities  and  ama- 


252  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

zing  destinies,  as  unfolded  by  revelation — it  is  impos 
sible  to  know.  It  is  related  that  a  deaf  and  dumb 
man  in  France  grew  up  to  manhood,  and  seemed  to 
have  a  highly  religious  tendency  and  experience. 
He  attended  the  services  of  the  church  with  steadfast 
assiduity,  and  wore  a  devout  and  penitential  air.  No 
one  doubted  his  comprehension  of  the  groundwork 
of  religion,  or  the  reality  of  his  piety.  Afterward, 
by  a  surgical  operation,  he  recovered  his  hearing.  It 
then  appeared  that  he  had  never  conceived  the  idea 
of  God,  a  future  state,  or  moral  responsibility !  His 
religion  was  wholly  a  pantomime.  He  saw  that  reli 
gious  forms  and  ceremonies  were  esteemed,  and  hence 
he  found  pleasure  in  them.  He  was  not  a  hypocrite, 
nor  an  automaton,  but  a  simple  exemplification  of 
that  mimetic  aptitude  which  is  a  part  of  our  nature. 
How  large  a  part  of  the  religion  of  the  world  is  no 
better  than  this,  it  is  not  for  us  to  say. 

It  is  probable  that  Moss  Ingersoll  had  passed  be 
yond  this  state  of  living  death:  no  doubt  he  com 
prehended — faintly,  at  least — the  idea  of  a  God  and 
human  accountability ;  it  is  even  supposed  that  he 
conceived  the  triune  existence  of  the  Deity.  He 
certainly  understood  something  of  astronomy,  and 
the  nature  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  Knowing  so 
much,  how  must  he  have  yearned  to  know  more ! 
How  must  his  active,  earnest  mind  have  struggled 
within  its  prison,  and  sought  to  solve  a  thousand 
mysteries  which  haunted^  and  perplexed  it !  What 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  253 

a  world  of  thought  and  knowledge  would  have  been 
opened  to  him  by  the  gift  of  speech,  and  yet — 
what  unfathomed  and  unfathomable  mysteries  would 
have  remained  unsolved,  still  to  haunt  and  perplex 
him !  Within  the  narrow  circle  of  his  observation 
and  experience,  he  was  almost  as  near  the  great  mys 
teries  hid  in  the  bosom  of  the  Almighty,  which  come 
so  often  and  so  anxiously  to  ask  a  solution,  as  the 
profoundest  philosopher.  I  remember  once,  while 
traveling  with  Mr.  Webster,  to  have  asked  him  if  he 
had  been  able,  in  any  degree,  to  penetrate  the  curtain 
which  hangs  over  the  origin  of  man,  of  nature,  and 
of  God.  He  replied  that  the  plainest  mind  could  see 
just  as  far  in  that  direction  as  the  most  acute  :  the 
Almighty  had  shut  the  door  upon  these  his  secrets, 
and  it  was  vain  for  us  to  attempt  to  open  it. 

How  hard  is  it  to  submit  to  this  stern  decree  !  Be 
hind  that  awful  barrier  lie  those  mighty  truths  which 
from  the  beginning  have  stimulated,  yet  baffled,  hu 
man  thought  and  inquiry.  No  mind  can  see  them, 
or  yet  forego  them.  There  is  God :  there  is  man's 
history,  man's  destiny,  written  in  letters  of  light !  Oh 
that  we  could  behold  and  read  the  amazing  revela 
tion  !  It  may  not  be  :  the  door  is  closed  ;  we  can  not 
force  it !  The  tyrant  Death  holds  the  key  :  he  alone 
has  power  to  open  it ;  and  he  at  last  will  open  it  to 
us  all.  Till  then,  patience,  hope,  submission — these 
are  our  only  resources. 

When  I  left  Ridgefield,  the  two  deaf  and  dumb 


254  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHKUC, 

Jngersolls  were  still  living.  On  my  return  there, 
some  years  after,  b6th  were  in  their  graves.  If  their 
privileges  were  less  than  those  of  other  men,  so 
doubtless  was  their  accountability.  Perhaps  even 
the  balance  of  enjoyment  in  their  lives  was  not  much 
less  than  it  would  have  been  had  they  possessed  their 
full  faculties.  With  increased  gifts  come  increased 
temptations.  Men  of  superior  endowments  too  often 
abuse  their  privileges,  and  their  lives  sink  even  be 
low  the  level  of  ordinary  men.  Those  who  are 
born  rich  often  squander  their  wealth,  and  thus  the 
bankrupt  is  even  more  wretched  than  he  who  was  a 
pauper  from  the  beginning.  At  all  events,  I  look 
back  upon  the  somewhat  mournful  story  of  these  two 
men  with  a  cheerful  conviction  that  on  earth  their 
lives  passed  tranquilly  away,  and  that  hereafter  the 
cloud  that  shaded  their  minds  will  be  removed  iu 
such  manner  and  measure  as  to  compensate  for  the 
privations  they  suffered  here. 

Jonathan  Ingersoll,  their  brother,  was  an  eminent 
lawyer,  and  settled  at  New  Haven.  Personally,  he  was 
erect,  slender,  and  very  much  like  his  distinguished 
son,  the  present  Ralph  I.  Ingersoll.  He  was  marked 
by  a  nervous  twitch  of  the  face,  which  usually  signal 
ized  itself  when  he  began  to  address  the  jury.  On  these 
occasions  his  eyes  opened  and  shut  spasmodically ;  at 
the  same  time  he  drew  the  corners  of  his  mouth  up 
and  down,  the  whole  seeming  as  if  it  was  his  object  to 
set  the  court  in  a  roar.  Sometimes  he  succeeded,  in 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  25 

spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  the  contrary.  Indeed,  it -was 
impossible  for  a  person  on  seeing  this  for  the  first 
time,  to  avoid  a  srnile — perhaps  a  broad  one.  It 
might  seem  that  such  a  frailty  would  have  been  a 
stumbling-block  in  his  profession  ;  yet  it  was  not  so. 
I  suspect,  indeed,  that  his  practice  as  a  lawyer  was 
benefited  by  it — for  the  world  likes  an  easy  handle  to 
a  great  name,  and  this  is  readily  supplied  by  a  per 
sonal  peculiarity.  At  all  events,  such  was  the  dignity 
of  his  character,  the  grace  of  his  language,  and  the 
perfection  of  his  logic,  his  law,  and  his  learning,  that 
he  stood  among  the  foremost  of  his  profession.  He 
became  Lieutenant-governor  of  the  State,  a  judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court,  and  held  various  other  respon 
sible  offices. 

This  gentleman  had  a  large  family  —  sons  and 
daughters :  the  names  of  the  former  are  honorably 
recorded  in  the  official  annals  of  their  native  State 
— nay,  of  the  United  States.  The  daughters  were 
distinguished  for  personal  attractions  and  refined  ac 
complishments,.  One  of  them  claims  a  special  notice 
— Grace  Ingersoll :  how  beautiful  the  name,  how  sug 
gestive  of  what  she  was  in  mind,  in  person,  in  char 
acter  !  I  saw  her  once — but  once,  and  I  was  then  a 
child — yet  her  image  is  as  distinct  as  if  I  had  seen 
her  yesterday. 

In  my  boyhood  these  New  Haven  Ingersolls  came 
to  Ridgefield  occasionally,  especially  in  summer,  to 
visit  their  relations  there.  Thev  all  seemed  to  rne 


250  I.KTTKE8 — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

like  superior  beings,  especially  Mrs.  Ingersoll,  who 
was  fair  and  forty  about  those  days.  On  a  certain 
occasion,  Grace,  who  was  a  school  companion  of  my 
elder  sister's,  came  to  our  house.  I  imagine  she  did 
not  see  or  notice  me.  Certainly  she  did  not  discover 
in  the  shy  boy  in  the  corner  her  future  biographer. 
She  was  tall  and  slender,  yet  fully  rounded,  with  rich, 
dark  hair,  and  large  Spanish  eyes — now  seeming  blue 
and  now  black,  and  changing  with  the  objects  on 
which  she  looked,  or  the  play  of  emotions  within  her 
breast.  In  complexion  she  was  a  brunette,  yet  with 
a  melting  glow  in  her  cheek,  as  if  she  had  stolen 
from  the  sun  the  generous  hues  which  are  reserved 
for  the  finest  of  fruit  and  flowers.  Her  beauty  was 
in  fact  so  striking — at  once  so  superb  and  so  concil 
iating — that  I  was  both  awed  and  fascinated  by  her. 
Wherever  she  went  I  followed,  though  keeping  at  si 
distance,  and  never  losing  sight  of  her.  She  spent  the 
afternoon  at  our  house,  and  then  departed,  and  I  saw 
her  no  more. 

It  was  not  long  after  *his  that  a  Frenchman  by  the 
name  of  Grellet,  who  had  come  to  America  on  some 
important  commercial  affairs,  chanced  to  be  at  New 
York,  and  there  saw  Grace  Ingersoll.  Such  beauty 
as  that  of  the  New  Haven  belle  is  rare  in  any  coun 
try  :  it  is  never  indigenous  in  France.  Even  if  such 
could  be  born  there,  the  imperious  force  of  conven 
tional  manners  would  have  stamped  itself  upon  her, 
and  made  her  a  fashionable  lady,  at  the  expense 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  257 

of  that  Eve-like  beauty  and  simplicity  which  charac 
terized  her.  It  is  not  astonishing,  then,  that  the 
stranger — accustomed  as  he  was  to  all  the  beauty  of 
French  fashionable  life — should  still  have  been  smit 
ten  with  this  new  and  startling  type  of  female  love 
liness. 

I  may  remark,  in  passing,  and  as  pertinent  to  my 
narrative,  that  the  women  of  New  Haven  in  these 
bygone  days  were  famous  for  their  beauty.  They 
may  be  so  yet,  but  I  have  not  been  there — except  as 
a  railroad  passenger — for  years,  and  can  not  estab 
lish  the  point  by  my  own  direct  testimony.  As  to 
the  olden  time,  however,  I  can  verify  my  statements 
from  the  evidence  of  my  own  eyes,  as  well  as  the  rec 
ords  of  long  tradition.  Among  the  legends  I  have 
heard  on  this  subject  is  one  to  this  effect.  There  was 
once  a  certain  Major  L . . . . — a  Virginian — who  I  be 
lieve  was  at  one  time  a  member  of  Congress.  He 
was  a  federalist ;  and  when  I  saw  him  at  Washington, 
about  the  year  1820,  he  wore  a  thick  queue,  and  a 
good  sprinkling  of  hair-powder — then  generally  es 
teemed  very  undemocratic.  He  was  a  large  and 
handsome  man,  and  at  the  period  of  which  I  speak 
was  some  fifty  years  of  age.  But  being  a  Virgin 
ian,  and  withal  a  bachelor,  he  was  still  highly  chiv 
alrous  in  his  feelings  and  conduct  toward  the  fair 
sex. 

Now,  once  upon  a  time  this  handsome  old  bachelor 
paid  a  visit  to  New  England.  Having  stayed  a  while 


258  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

at  Boston,  lie  journeyed  homeward  till  he  came  to 
New  Haven.  It  chanced  to  be  Commencement-day 
— the  great  jubilee  of  the  city — while  he  was  there. 
Having  no  acquaintances,  he  set  out  in  the  morning 
to  go  and  see  the  ceremonies.  Directed  by  the  cur 
rent  of  people  to  the  chapel,  he  went  thither,  and 
asked  for  admittance.  It  was  the  custom  first  to  re 
ceive  the  reverend  clergy  and  the  ladies,  who  had 
privileged  seats  reserved  for  them — the  world  at  large 
being  kept  out  till  these  were  accommodated :  a 
fact  which  shows  that  our  Puritan  ancestors,  if  they 
did  not  hold  women  to  be  divine,  placed  them  on 
the  same  level  as  divines.  The  doorkeeper  scanned 
Major  L  ....  as  he  came  up  to  the  place,  and  observ 
ing  him  to  be  a  good-looking  gentleman  in  black, 
with  a  tinge  of  powder  on  his  coat-collar,  set  him 
down  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  so  let  him  pass. 
The  sexton  within  took  him  in  charge,  and  placed 
him  in  the  clerical  quarter  between  two  old  D.  D.'s — 
Dr.  Perkins,  of  West  Hartford,  and  Dr.  Marsh,  of 
Wethersfield,  each  having  the  Five  Points  sticking 
out — the  one  from  his  gray  locks  and  the  other  from 
his  frizzed  wig — as  plainly  as  if  they  had  been  em 
blazoned  on  a  banner. 

The  major,  with  the  conscious  ease  of  his  genial 
nature  and  southern  breeding,  took  his  seat  and  sur 
veyed  the  scene.  His  gaze  soon  fell  upon  a  battery 
of  eyes — beautiful,  yet  dangerous — that  ran  along  the 
gallery.  Unconscious  of  the  sanctity  and  sain tli ness 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  259 

of  his  position,  he  half  rose  and  made  a  low  and  gra 
cious  bow  to  the  ladies  above,  as  if  to  challenge  their 
whole  artillery.  Every  eye  in  the  house  was  thus 
drawn  toward  him.  Before  he  had  time  to  compose 

himself,  Miss  F ,  one  of  the  belles  of  the  day, 

came  down  the  Woad  aisle,  full  upon  him  !  He  had 
never  seen  any  thing  so  marvellously  beautiful — at 
once  so  simple  and  so  superb,  so  much  a  woman  and 
so  much  a  divinity.  He  held  his  breath  till  she  had 
passed,  when  he  turned  suddenly  to  Eev.  Dr.  Marsh, 
and  giving  him  a  slap  on  his  shoulder — which  dis 
lodged  a  shower  of  powder  from  his  wig — exclaimed, 
"  By  all  the  gods,  sir,  there  is  Yen  us  herself!"  . 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  the  consternation  of 
all  around,  and  especially  of  the  reverend  clergy. 
Their  grizzled  hair  stood  out,  as  if  participating  in 
the  general  horror.  What  could  possess  their  rev 
erend  brother?  Was  he  suddenly  beset  by  the  Evil 
One,  thus  to  utter  the  unhallowed  name  of  Venus  in 
the  house  of  God  ?  It  was,  indeed  a  mystery.  Grad 
ually,  and  one  by  one,  they  left  the  infected  pew,  and 
Major  L  . . . .,  finding  himself  alone,  quietly  pocketed 
the  joke,  which,  however,  he  often  repeated  to  his 
friends  after  his  return  to  Virginia. 

This  legend  refers  to  a  date  some  dozen  years  sub 
sequent  to  the  era  of  Grace  Ingersoll,  and  which 
therefore  shows  that  the  traditional  beauty  of  the  New 
Haven  ladies  had  not  then  declined.  I  now  return 
to  my  story.  From  the  first  view  of  that  fair  lady, 


260  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

M.  Grellet  was  a  doomed  man.  Familiar  with  the 
brilliant  court  of  the  Parisian  capital,  he  might  have 
passed  by  unharmed,  even  by  one  as  fair  as  our  he 
roine,  had  it  not  been  for  that  simplicity,  that  Puri 
tanism  of  look  and  manner,  which  belonged  to  the 
social  climate  in  which  she  was  brought  up — so  strong 
ly  in  contrast  to  the  prescribed  pattern  graces  of  a 
French  lady.  He  came,  he  saw,  he  was  conquered. 
Being  made  captive,  he  had  no  other  way  than  to 
capitulate.  He  was  a  man  of  good  family,  a  fine 
scholar,  and  a  finished  gentleman.  He  made  due 
and  honorable  proposals,  and  was  accepted — though 
on  the  part  of  the  parents  with  many  misgivings. 
Marriage  ensued,  and  the  happy  pair  departed  for 
France. 

This  took  place  in  1806.  M.  Grellet  held  a  high 
social  position,  and  on  his  arrival  at  Paris,  it  was  a 
matter  of  propriety  that  his  bride  should  be  pre 
sented  at  court.  Napoleon  was  then  in  the  full 
flush  of  his  imperial  glory.  It  must  have  been 
with  some  palpitations  of  heart  that  the  New  Ha 
ven  girl — scarcely  turned  of  eighteen  years,  and  new 
to  the  great  world — prepared  to  be  introduced  to  the 
glittering  circle  of  the  Tuileries,  and  under  the  eye  of 
the  emperor  himself.  As  she  was  presented  to  him, 
in  the  midst  of  a  dazzling  throng,  blazing  with  orders 
and  diamonds,  she  was  a  little  agitated,  and  her  foot 
was  entangled  for  a  moment  in  her  long  train — then 
an  indispensable  part  of  the  court  costume.  Napo- 


.DAME  GREU.ET  (GRACE  INGERSOLL)  AT  THE  COURT  OF  NAPOLEOX.   Vol.  l.  p.  263. 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  261 

leon,  who,  with  all  his  greatness,  never  rose  to  the 
dignity  of  a  gentleman,  said  in  her  hearing,  "  Voild 
de  lo,  gaucherie  am&ricaine  I"  American  awkward 
ness  !  Perhaps  a  certain  tinge  of  political  bitterness 
mingled  in  the  speech,  for  Jerome  had  been  seduced 
into  marriage  by  the  beauty  of  an  American  lady, 
greatly  to  the  chagrin  of  his  aspiring  and  unprinci 
pled  brother.  At  all  events,  though  he  saw  the  blush 
his  rudeness  had  created,  a  malicious  smile  played 
upon  his  lips,  indicative  of  that  contempt  of  the  feel 
ings  of  women,  which  was  one  of  his  characteristics.* 

Madame  Grellet,  however,  survived  the  shock  of 
this  discourtesy,  which  signalized  her  entry  into  fash 
ionable  life.  She  soon  became  a  celebrity  in  the  court 
circles,  and  always  maintained  pre-eminence,  alike  for 
beauty  of  person,  grace  of  manners,  and  delicacy  and 
dignity  of  character.  More  than  once  she  had  her  re 
venge  upon  the  emperor,  when  in  the  center  of  an  ad 
miring  circle,  he,  with  others,  paid  homage  to  her  fas 
cinations.  Yet  this  transplantation  of  the  fair  Puritan, 
even  to  the  Paradise  of  fashion,  was  not  healthful. 

M.  Grellet  became  one  of  Bonaparte's  receivers- 
general,  and  took  up  his  residence  in  the  department  of 
the  Dordogne — though  spending  the  winters  in  Paris. 


*  Napoleon's  estimate  of  woman  was  very  low  :  it  was  his  cherished 
opinion  that  the  orientals  understood  much  better  how  to  dispose  of  the 
female  sex  than  the  Europeans.  There  was  a  brusquerie,  a  precipitancy 
in  his  manner  toward  women,  both  in  public  and  private,  which  his 
greatest  admirers  admit  to  have  been  repugnant  to  every  feeling  of  fe 
male  delicacy.  See  Alison's  Europe,  vol.  ix.  p.  151. 


262  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Upon  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  he  lost  his  office,  but  was 
reappointed  during  the  "hundred  days,"  only  to  lose 
it  again  upon  the  final  restoration  of  Louis  XVIII. 
The  shadows  now  gathered  thick  and  dark  around 
him.  His  wife  having  taken  a  violent  cold  was  at 
tacked  with  pleurisy,  which  resulted  in  a  gradual  de 
cline.  Gently  but  surely  her  life  faded  away.  Death 
loves  a  shining  mark,  and  at  the  early  age  of  five-and- 
twenty  she  descended  to  the  tomb.  With  two  lovely 
daughters — the  remembrances  of  his  love  and  his 
affliction — M.  Grellet  returned  to  the  south  of  France, 
and  in  the  course  of  years,  he  too  was  numbered  with 
the  dead. 

Almost  half  a  century  passed  away,  and  the  mem 
ory  of  Grace  Ingersoll  had  long  been  obliterated  from 
my  mind,  when  it  was  accidentally  recalled.  One 
evening,  being  at  the  Tuileries — among  the  celebrities 
of  the  world's  most  brilliant  court — I  saw  her  brother, 
B.  I.  Ingersoll.  It  was  curious  to  meet  here  with  one 
to  whom  I  had  not  spoken — though  I  had  occasion 
ally  seen  him — since  we  were  boys  together  in  Ridge- 
field.  The  last  incident  associated  with  him  in  my 
memory  was  that  we  played  mumbletepeg  together 
on  the  green  mound,  beneath  the  old  Ingersoll  but- 
tonwoods.  He  was  now  the  American  Ambassador 
to  Russia,  and  on  his  way  thither,  and  I  was  a  chance 
sojourner  m  Paris. 

We  met  as  if  we  were  old  friends.  At  length  I 
recollected  his  sister  Grace,  and  asked  if  her  children 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  263 

were  living.  He  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  that 
he  was  on  the  point  of  paying  them  a  visit.  1  saw 
him  a  month  afterward,  and  he  told  me  that  he  had 
just  returned  from  the  south  of  France,  where  he  had 
enjoyed  a  most  interesting  stay -of  a  fortnight  with 
his  nieces.  One — the  elder— was  married,  and  had 
children  around  her.  She  was  the  wife  of  an  eminent 
physician,  and  in  easy  circumstances — occupying  a 
good  social  position.  She  was  a  charming  person,  and, 
as  he  thought,  possessed  something  of  the  appearance 
and  character  of  his  lost  sis'ter.  He  found  that  she 
could  sing  the  simple  Connecticut  ballads — taught  her 
in  childhood,  perhaps  in  the  cradle — by  her  mother  : 

• 

she  had  also  some  of  her  sketches  in  pencil,  and  other 
personal  mementoes,  which  she  cherished  as  sacred 
relics  of  her'  parent,  who  now  seemed  a  saint  in  her 
memory.  How  beautiful  and  how  touching  are  such 
remembrances — flowers  that  cast  perfume  around  the 
very  precincts  of  the  tomb ! 

The  other  neice — where  was  she?  In  a  convent, 
lost  to  the  world — devoted  to  God — if  indeed  to  ex 
tinguish  the  lights  of  life  be  devotion  to  Him  who 
gave  them !  By  special  favor,  however,  she  was 
permitted  to  leave  her  seclusion  for  a  short  period, 
that  she  might  see  her  uncle.  She  came  to  the 
house  of  her  sister,  and  remained  there  several  days 
She  was  a  most  interesting  person,  delicate,  grace 
ful,  sensitive,  still  alive  to  all  human  affections.  She 
was  generally  cheerful,  and  entered  with  a  ready 


264  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

heart  into  the  pleasures  of  home  and  friends  around 
her.  I  shall  venture  to  quote  a  single  passage  from 
a  letter  on  this  subject,  addressed  to  me  by  her  uncle. 
Speaking  of  his  visit  above  alluded  to,  he  says : 

"  One  day,  after  we  had  been  talking  as  usual  of 
America  and  her  American  relations,  she  excused 
herself  to  me  for  a  short  time,  that  she  might  go  to 
her  room  and  write  a  letter  to  the  convent.  She  was 
gone  from  me  much  longer  than  I  had  expected,  and 
on  her  return  I  said  to  her : 

" '  You  must  have  been  writing  a  long  letter,  if  I 
may  judge  by  the  time  you  have  been  about  it?' 

" '  Yes,'  was  her  reply ;  '  but  I  have  not  been  wri 
ting  all  the  while ;  I  have  been  praying.' 

" '  Indeed  !     Do  you  pray  often  ?' 

"  '  Yes — and  even  more  often  here  than  when  I  am 
at  the  convent.' 

"'Why  so?'  -- 

" '  I  fear,  my  dear  uncle,  that  my  affection  for  you 
will  attach  me  too  much  to  earth.' " 

How  strange,  how  affecting. are  the  vicissitudes  of 
life  as  we  read  them  in  the  intimate  personal  histo 
ries  of  homes  and  hearts!  The  direct  descendants 
of  the  Puritan  minister  of  Bidgefield — the  one  a 
mother,  blending  her  name,  her  lineage,  and  her  lan 
guage,  in  the  annals  of  a  foreign  land ;  the  other,  a 
devotee,  seeking  in  the  seclusion  of  her  cell — and  per 
haps  not  altogether  in  vain — "that  peace  which  the 
world  can  not  give  I" 


HISTORICAL,  ANECIX3TICAL,  ETC. 


LETTER  XIX, 

Mat  Olmstead,  the  Town  WiL-The  Salamander  Ratr-The  Great  Eclipse 
— Sharp  Logic — Lieutenant  Smith,  the  Town  Philosopher — The  Pur- 

'  chase  of  Louisiana — Lewis  and  Clarke's  Exploring  Expedition — The 
Great  Meteor — Hamilton  and  Burr — The  Leopard  and  the  Chesapeake — 
Fulton's  Steamboats — Granther  Baldwin,  the  Village  Miser — Sarah 
Bishop,  the  Hermitess. 

MY   DEAR    C****** 

Matthew  Olmstead,  or  Mat  Olmstead,  as  he  was 
usually  called,  was  a  day  laborer,  and  though  his 
speciality  was  the  laying  of  stone  fences,  he  was  equal 
ly  adroit  at  hoeing  corn,  mowing,  and  farm-work  in 
general.  He  /was  rather  short  and  thick-set,  with  a 
long  nose,  a  little  bulbous  in  his  latter  days — with  a 
ruddy  complexion,  and  a  mouth  shutting  like  a  pair 
of  nippers — the  lips  having  an  oblique  dip  to  the  left, 
giving  a  keen  and  mischievous  expression  to  his  face, 
qualified,  however,  by  more  of  mirth  than  malice. 
This  feature  was  indicative  of  his  mind  and  character, 
for  he  was  sharp  in  speech,  and  affected  a  crisp,  bi 
ting  brevity,  called  dry  wit.  He  had  also  a  turn  for 
practical  jokes,  and  a  great  many  of  these  were  told 
of  him,  to  which,  perhaps,  he  had  no  historical  claim. 
The  following  is  one  of  them,  and  is  illustrative  oi 
his  manner,  even  if  it  originated  elsewhere. 

On  a  cold  stormy  day  in  December — as  I  received 
the  tale — a  man  chanced  to  come  into  the  bar-room 

VOL.  I.— 12 


266  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

of  Keeler's  tavern,  where  Mat  Olmstead  and  several 
of  his  companions  were  lounging.  The  stranger  had 
on  a  new  hat  of  the  latest  fashion,  and  still  shining 
with  the  gloss  of  the  iron.  He  seemed  conscious  of 
his  dignity,  and  carried  his  head  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  invite  attention  to  it.  Mat's  knowing  eye  imme 
diately  detected  the  weakness  of  the  stranger ;  so  he 
approached  him,  and  said — 

"  What  a  very  nice  hat  you've  got  on.  Pray  who 
made  it?" 

"  Oh,  it  came  from  New  York,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  let  me  take  it,"  said  Mat. 

The  stranger  took  it  off  his  head,  gingerly,  and 
handed  it  to  him. 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  nice  hat,"  said  Matthew  ;  "  and 
I  see  it's  a  real  salamander  !" 

"  Salamander?"  said  the  other.     "  What's  that  ?" 

"  Why  a  real  salamander  hat  won't  burn !" 

"  No  ?  I  never  heard  of  that  before :  I  don't  be 
lieve  it's  one  of  that  kind." 

"  Sartain  sure ;  I'll  bet  you  a  mug  of  flip  of  it." 

"  Well,  I'll  stand  you  !" 

"  Done :  now  I'll  just  put  it  under  the  fore-stick  ?" 

"Well." 

It  being  thus  arranged,  Mat  put  the  hat  under  the 
fore-stick  into  a  glowing  mass  of  coals.  In  an  instant 
it  took  fire,  collapsed,  and  rolled  into  a  black,  crum 
pled  mass  of  cinders. 

"  I  du  declare,"  said  Mat  Olmstead,  affecting  great 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  267 

astonishment — "it  ain't  a  salamander  hat  arter  all. 
Well ;  I'll  pay  the  flip  !" 

Yet  wit  is  not  always  wisdom.  Keen  as  this  man 
was  as  to  things  immediately  before  him,  he  was  of 
narrow  understanding.  He  seemed  not  to  possess  the 
faculty  of  reasoning  beyond  his  senses.  He  never 
would  admit  that  the  sun  was  fixed,  and  that  the 
world  turned  round.  In  an  argument  upon  this  point 
before  an  audience  of  his  class,  he  would  have  floored 
Sir  John  Herschel  or  Lord  Eosse  by  his  homely  but 
pointed  ridicule. 

I  remember  that  when  the  great  solar  eclipse  of 
1806  was  approaching,  he  with  two  other  men  were  at 
work  in  one  of  our  fields,  not  far  from  the  house.  The 
eclipse  was  to  begin  at  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  and  my 
father  sent  an  invitation  to  the  workmen  to  come  up 
and  observe  it  through  some  pieces  of  smoked  glass. 
They  came,  though  Mat  ridiculed  the  idea  of  an  eclipse 
— not  but  the  thing  might  happen — but  it  was  idle  to 
suppose  it  could  be  foretold.  While  they  were  waiting 
and  watching  for  the  great  event,  my  father  explain 
ed  that  the  light  of  the  sun  upon  the  earth  was  to  be 
interrupted  by  the  intrusion  of  the  moon,  and  that 
this  was  to  produce  a  transient  night  upon  the  scene 
around  us. 

Mat  laughed  with  that  low  scoffing  chuckle,  with 
which  a  woodchuck,  safe  in  his  rocky  den,  replies  to 
the  bark  of  a  besieging  dog. 

"  So  you  don't  believe  this  ?"  said  my  father. 


268  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

"  No,"  said  Mat,  shaking  his  head,  and  bringing  his 
lips  obliquely  together,  like  the  blades  of  a  pair  of 
shears.  "  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  You  say,  Par 
son  Goodrich,  that  the  sun  is  fixed,  and  don't  move  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  say  so." 

"  Well :  didn't  you  preach  last  Sunday  out  of  the 
10th  chapter  of  Joshua  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  didn't  you  tell  us  that  Joshua  commanded 
the  sun  and  moon  to  stand  still  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well :  what  was  the  use  of  telling  the  sun  to 
stand  still  if  it  never  moved  ?" 

This  was  a  dead  shot,  especially  at  a  parson,  and 
in  the  presence  of  an  audience  inclined,  from  the  fel 
lowship  of  ignorance,  to  receive  the  argument.  Being 
thus  successful,  Mat  went  on. 

"  Now,  Parson  Goodrich,  let's  try  it  agin.  If  you 
turn  a  thing  that's  got  water  in  it  bottom  up,  the  wa- 
ter'll  run  out,  won't  it  ?" 

"  No  doubt." 

"  If  the  world  turns  round,  then,  your  well  will  be 
turned  bottom  up,  and  the  water'll  run  out !" 

At  this  point  my  father  applied  his  eye  to  the  son 
through  a  piece  of  smoked  glass.  The  eclipse  had 
begun  ;  a  small  piece  was  evidently  cut  off  from  the 
rim.  My  father  stated  the  fact,  and  the  company 
around  looked  through  the  glass  and  saw  that  it  was 
so.  Mat  Olmstead,  however,  sturdily  refused  to  try  it, 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  269 

and  bore  on  his  face  an  air  of  supreme  contempt,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  You  don't  humbug  me!" 

But  ignorance  and  denial  of  the  works  of  God  do 
not  interrupt  their  march.  By  slow  and  invisible 
degrees,  a  shade  crept  over  the  landscape.  There 
was  no  cloud  in  the  sky,  but  a  chill  stole  through 
the  atmosphere,  and  a  strange  dimness  fell  over  the 
world.  It  was  midday,  yet  it  seemed  like  the  ap 
proach  of  night.  There  was  something  fearful  in 
this,  as  if  the  sun  was  about  to  be  blotted  out  in 
the  midst  of  his  glory — the  light  of  the  world  to 
be  extinguished  at  the  moment  of  its  noon  !  All  na 
ture  seemed  chilled  and  awed  by  the  strange  phenom 
enon.  The  birds,  with  startled  looks  and  ominous 
notes,  left  their  busy  cares  and  gathered  in  the  thick 
branches  of  the  trees,  where  they  seemed  to  hold 
counsel  one  with  another.  The  hens,  with  slow  and 
hesitating  steps,  set  their  faces  toward  their  roosts. 
One  old  hen,  with  a  brood  of  chickens,  walked  along 
with  a  tall,  halting  tread,  and  sought  shelter  upon 
the  barn-floor,  where  she  gathered  her  young  ones 
under  her  wings,  continuing  to  make  a  low  sound,  as 
if  saying — "  Hush,  my  babes,  lie  still  and  slumber." 
At  the  same  time,  like  many  a  mother  before  her,  while 
seeking  to  bring  peace  to  her  offspring,  her  own  heart 
was  agitated  with  profound  anxiety. 

I  well  remember  this  phenomenon* — the  first  of  the 

*  Tliis  eclipse  (June  16th,  1806),  being  total,  attracted  great  attention 
The  weather  was  perfectly  calm,   and  the  phenomena  exceedingly  hi 


270  LETTEKS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

kind  I  had  ever  witnessed.  Its  sublimity  absorbed 
ray  whole  faculties :  it  seemed  to  me  the  veritable, 
visible  work  of  the  Almighty.  The  ordinary  course 
of  nature  was,  indeed,  equally  stupendous ;  but  this 
incident,  from  its  mere  novelty,  was  a  startling  and 
impressive  display  of  the  mighty  mechanism  of  the 
skies.  Yet,  though  thus  occupied  by  this  seeming 
conflict  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  I  recollect  to  have 
paid  some  attention  to  the  effect  of  the  scene  upon 
others.  Mat  Olmstead  said  not  a  word ;  the  other 
workmen  were  overwhelmed  with  emotions  of  awe. 

At  length  the  eclipse  began  to  pass  away,  and  na 
ture  slowly  returned  to  her  equanimity.  The  birds 
came  forth,  and  sang  a  jubilee,  as  if  relieved  from 
some  impending  calamity.  The  hum  of  life  again 
filled  the  air ;  the  old  hen  with  her  brood  gayly  re 
sumed  her  rambles,  and  made  the  leaves  and  gravel 


teresting.  At  the  point  of  greatest  obscuration,  the  air  was  so  chill 
as  to  make  an  overcoat  desirable.  A  short  time  before  this,  the  dark 
ness  in  the  west  assumed  the  appearance  of  an  approaching  thunder 
storm.  A  luminous  ring  surrounded  the  moon  after  the  sun  was  to 
tally  hid.  Such  was  the  darkness  that  the  time  could  not  be  determined 
by  a  watch.  The  number  of  stars  visible  was  greater  than  at  the  Hill 
moon. 

An  account  of  the  scene  in  Boston  thus  describes  it:  "The  morning 
tras  ushered  in  with  the  usual  hum  of  business,  which  gradually  sub- 
ekled  as  the  darkness  advanced.  An  uninterrupted  silence  succeed 
ed.  A  fresh  breeze  which  had  prevailed,  now  ceased,  and  all  was 
calm.  The  birds  retired  to  rest :  the  rolling  chariot  and  the  rumbling 
car  were  no  more  heard.  The  axe  and  the  hammer  were  suspended. 
Heturning  light  reanimated  the  face  of  things.  We  seemed  as  in  the 
dawn  of  creation,  when  '  God  said,  Let  there  he  light,  and  there  wa»  light  T 
and  an  involuntary  cheer  of  graUilation  burst  from  the  assembled  spec 
tator*."—  Monthly  Anthology,  1806. 


HISTORICAL.  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  271 

fly  with  her  invigorated  scratchings.  The  workmen, 
too,  having  taken  a  glass  of  grog,  returned  thought 
fully  to  their  labors. 

"  After  all,"  said  one  of  the  men,  as  they  passed 
along  to  the  field,  "  I  guess  the  parson  was  right 
about  the  sun  and  the  moon." 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  was,"  said  Mat ;  "  but  then 
Joshua  was  wrong." 

Notwithstanding  this  man's  habitual  incredulity, 
he  had  still  his  weak  side,  for  he  was  a  firm  believer 
in  ghosts — not  ghosts  in  general,  but  two  that  he  had 
seen  himself.  Like  most  other  ghost-seers,  he  patron 
ized  none  but  his  own.  These  were  of  enormous  size, 
white  and  winged  like  angels.  He  had  seen  them 
one  dark  night  as  he  was  going  to  his  house — a  little 
brown  tenement,  situated  on  a  lonesome  lane  that 
diverged  to  the  left  from  the  high-road  to  Salern.  It 
was  very  late,  and  Mat  had  spent  the  evening  at  the 
tavern,  like  Tarn  O'Shanter ;  like  him,  he  ."  was  na 
fou,  but  just  had  plenty" — a  circumstance,  I  must  say, 
rather  uncommon  with  him,  for  he  was  by  no  means 
a  tippler,  beyond  the  habits  of  that  day.  It  is  prob 
able  that  all  modern  ghosts  are  revealed  only  to  the 
second-sight  of  alcohol,  insanity,  or  the  vapors ;  even 
in  this  case  of  Mat  OlmsteaxTs,  it  turned  out  that  his 
two  angels  were  a  couple  of  white  geese,  whom  he 
had  startled  into  flight,  as  he  stumbled  upon  them 
quietly  snoozing  in  the  joint  of  a  rail  fence ! 

It  has  often  appeared  to  me  that  Mat  Olmstead  was 


272  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

a  type — a  representative  of  a  class  of  men  not  very 
rare  in  this  world  of  ours.  It  is  not  at  all  uncom 
mon  to  find  people,  and  those  who  are  called  strong- 
minded,  who  are  habitual  unbelievers  in  things  pos 
sible  and  probable — nay,  in  things  well  established 
by  testimony — while  they  readily  become  the  dupes 
of  the  most  absurd  illusions  and  impositions.  Dr. 
Johnson,  it  is  stated,  did  not  believe  in  the  great 
earthquake  of  Lisbon  in  1755,  until  six  months  after 
it  had  happened,  while  he  readily  accepted  the  egre 
gious  deception  of  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost.  In  our  day 
we  see  people — and  sharp  ones  too — who  reject  the 
plainest  teachings  of  common  sense,  sanctioned  by 
the  good  and  wise  of  centuries,  and  follow  with  im 
plicit  faith  some  goose  of  the  imagination,  like  Joe 
Smith  orBrigham  Young.  These  are  Mat  Olmsteads, 
a  little  intoxicated  by  their  own  imaginations,  and  in 
their  night  of  ignorance  and  folly,  .they  fall  down 
and  worship  the  grossest  and  goosiest  of  illusions. 

I  now  turn  to  a  different  character,  Lieutenant,  or 
as  we  all  called  him,  Leftenant  Smith.  He  has  been 
already  introduced  to  you,  but  a  few  touches  are  still 
necessary  to  complete  hi§  portrait.  He  was  a  man  o 
extensive  reading,  and  large  information.  He  was  also 
some  sixty  years  old,  and  had  stored  in  his  memory 
the  results  of  his  own  observation  and  experience. 
He  read  the  newspapers,  and  conversed  with  travelers 
— thus  keeping  up  with  the  march  of  events.  He 
affected  philosophy,  and  deemed  himself  the  great 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  273 

intelligencer  of  the  town.  If  he  was  thus  rich  in 
lore,  he  dearly  loved  to  dispense  it,  asking  only  in 
return  attentive  listeners.  He  liked  discussion,  pro 
vided  it  was  all  left  to  himself.  He  was  equal  to  all 
questions  :  with  my  father,  he  dilated  upon  such  high 
matters  as  the  Purchase  of  Louisiana ;  Lewis  and 
Clarke's  Exploring  Expedition  ;  the  death  of  Ham 
ilton  in  the  duel  with  Aaron  Burr ;  the  attack  of  the 
Leopard  on  the  Chesapeake  ;*  Fulton's  attempts  at 
steam  navigation,  and  the  other  agitating  topics  of 

*  These  several  events,  which  have  now  passed  into  the  mist  of  dis 
tance,  all  caused  great  excitement  at  the  time  they  transpired. 

The  Purchase  of  Louisiana,  in  1803,  was  made  by  our  ministers  in 
France,  Livingston  and  Monroe,  of  Bonaparte,  then  "  Consul  for  life,"  for 
the  sum  of  fifteen  millions  of  dollars.  Though  the  treaty  was  wholly  un 
authorized,  our  government  accepted  and  ratified  it.  Jefferson,  then 
President,  sanctioned  and  promoted  it,  though  he  knew  it  to  be  un 
constitutional,  as  has  since  appeared  by  his  private  correspondence : 
a  fact  the  more  remarkable,  as  he  had  always  pretended  to  make  a 
strict  construction  of  the  Constitution  a  cardinal  political  principle. 
The  federalists  opposed  the  treaty,  as  unconstitutional,  and  as  a  de 
struction  of  the  balance  between  the  free  States  and  slave  States, 
established  by  that  instrument.  The  democratic  party,  knowing  the 
truth  of  all  this,  but  having  a  majority,  accepted  the  treaty.  Though 
apparently  a  beneficial  measure — the  mode  in  which  it  was  effected,  has 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  most  alarming  evils.  This  example  of  a  pal 
pable  violation  of  the  Constitution  by  Jefferson — the  great  apostle  of 
democracy — and  sanctioned  and  glorified  by  that  dominant  party,  has 
deprived  that  instrument  of  much  of  its  binding  force  upon  the  con 
science  of  the  country.  Hence,  it  has  become  the  constant  subject  of 
invasion  and  violation  by  party.  If  our  government  is  ever  overthrown, 
its  death-blow  will  be  traced  to  this  act.  Had  the  true  course  been 
adopted— that  of  a  modification  of  the  Constitution  by  the  people — no 
doubt  that  stipulations  in  respect  to  slavery  would  have  been  imposed, 
which  would  have  prevented  its  present  enormous  extension,  and  saved 
the  country  from  the  irritating  difficulties  in  which  that  subject  now  in 
volves  us. 

It  is  a  matter  worthy  of  remark  that  this  first  violation  of  the  Consti 
tution  came  from  the  strict  oonstractionista  :  it  is  from  them  also,  at  tl*«« 

12* 


274  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

those  times,  as  they  came  one  after  another.  He  was 
profound  upon  the  sources  of  the  Nile  and  the  Niger, 
learned  upon  the  site  of  Eldorado,  and  magniloquent 
upon  Napoleon,  then  making  the  whole  earth  re 
sound  with  his  ominous  march  toward  universal  do 
minion.  To  a  humble  auditory  of  men  and  boys, 
gathered  by  chance — as  on  a  wet  day,  or  a  Saturday 
afternoon,  in  the  stoop  of  Keeler's  tavern — he  told 
about  Putnam  and  the  wolf,  General  Stark  and  his 
wife  Molly,  with  variations  of  Washington  and  the  war. 

present  day,  that  we  hear  that  instrument  made  the  constant  object  of 
threatened  nullification  or  repudiation. 

Lewis  and  Clarke's  Expedition  to  the  Pacific,  across  the  continent  by 
way  of  the  sources  of  the  Missouri,  began  in  1803  and  was  completed 
in  1806.  This  was  made  the  theme  of  great  eulogy  by  the  friends  of 
Jefferson,  whose  scientific  pretensions  provoked  abundance  of  ridicule 
in  his  opponents.  In  January,  1807,  a  dinner  waa  given  at  Washington 
to  Capt.  Lewis,  in  compliment  and  congratulation  for  his  success  in  the 
expedition.  Joel  Barlow  produced  a  song  on  the  occasion,  full  of  ri 
diculous  bombast.  One  verse  will  give  an  idea  of  it : 

"  With  the  same  soaring  genius  thy  Lewis  ascends, 

And  seizes  the  car  of  the  sun  ; 

O'er  the  sky-propping  hills,  and  high  waters  he  bends, 
And  gives  the  proud  earth  a  new  zone." 

This  was  sarcastically  parodied  by  John  Q.  Adams,  who  did  not  dis 
dain  to  make  the  domestic  frailties  of  Jefferson  the  object  of  his  satire. 
One  verse  is  as  follows,  it  having  reference  to  Barlow's  suggestion  that 
the  name  of  the  Columbia  river  should  be  changed  to  Lewis'  river. 

"  Let  Dusky  Sally  henceforth  bear 

The  name  of  Isabella : 
And  let  the  mountains  all  of  salt, 

Be  christened  Monticolla. 
The  hog  with  navel  on  his  back, 

Tom  Paine  may  be  when  drank,  sir : 
And  Joel  call'd  the  prairie  dog. 

Which  once  was  call'd  a  skunk,  sir.11 

It  is  curious  and  instructive  to  know  that  soon  after  this  (March,  1808), 
J.  Q.  Adams,  having  lost  caste  with  the  federalists  of  Massachusetts, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  275 

I  have  an  impression  that  Lieut.  Smith  after  all, 
was  not  very  profound  ;  but  to  me  he  was  a  miracle  of 
learning.  I  listened  to  his  discussions  with  very  little 
interest,  but  his  narratives  engaged  my  whole  atten 
tion.  These  were  always  descriptive  of  actual  events, 
for  he  would  have  disdained  fiction :  from  them  I  de 
rived  a  satisfaction  that  I  never  found  in  fables.  The 
travels  of  Mungo  Park,  his  strange  adventures  and 
melancholy  death — which  about  those  days  transpired 
through  the  newspapers,  and  all  of  which  Lieutenant 

went  to  Jefferson,  and  accused  them  of  treasonable  designs,  and  was 
consequently  made  a  good  democrat,  and  sent  as  Minister  to  Russia  in 
1809.  The  transformations  of  politicians  are  often  as  wonderful  as 
those  of  Harlequin. 

The  Death  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  July  11, 1804,  in  a  duel  with  Aaron 
Burr,  the  Vice-President  of  the  United  States,  produced  the  most  vivid 
emotions  of  mingled  regret  and  indignation.  Hamilton,  though  in  pri 
vate  life  not  without  blemishes,  was  a  man  of  noble  character  and  vast 
abilities.  Burr  was  in  every  thing  false  and  unprincipled.  He  feared 
and  envied  Hamilton,  and  with  the  express  purpose  of  taking  his  life, 
forced  him  into  the  conflict.  Hamilton  fell,  fatally  wounded,  at  the  lirst 
fire,  and  Burr,  like  another  Cain,  fled  to  the  South,  and  at  last  to  Europe, 
before  the  indignation  of  the  whole  nation.  After  many  years  he  re 
turned — neglected,  shunned,  despised — -yet  lingering  on  to  the  year  183(5, 
when  at  the  age  of  eighty  he  died,  leaving  his  blackened  name  to  stand 
by  the  side  of  that  of  Benedict  Arnold. 

The  Attack  of  the  British  ship-of-wai-  Leopard  on  the  U.  IS.  «hip  C7/W- 
upeake,  took  place  off  Hampton  Koads,  in  June,  1807.  The  latter,  com 
manded  by  Commodore  Barron,  was  just  out  of  port,  and  apprehending 
no  danger,  was  totally  unprepared  for  action.  The  commander  of  the 
British  vessel  demanded  four  sailors  of  the  Chesapeake,  claimed  to  bo 
deserters,  and  as  these  were  not  surrendered,  he  poured  his  broadsides 
into  the  American  vessel,  which  was  speedily  disabled.  He  then  took 
the  four  seamen,  and  the  Chesapeake  put  back  to  Norfolk.  This  auda 
cious  act  was  perpetrated  under  the  "right  of  search,"  as  maintained 
by  Great  Britain.  The  indignation  of  the  American  people  knew  no 
bounds  :  Jefferson  demanded  apology,  and  the  British  government  im 
mediately  offered  it.  It  was  not  the  policy  of  our  President,  however, 
to  settle  the  matter  with  Great  Britain  :  so  this  difficulty  was  kept  along 


i>76  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Smith  had  at  his  tongue's  end — excited  my  interest 
and  my  imagination  even  beyond  the  romances  of 
Sinbad  the  Sailor  and  Robinson  Crusoe. 

In  the  year  1807,  an  event  occurred,  not  only  start 
ling  in  itself,  but  giving  exercise  to  all  the  philosoph 
ical  powers  of  Lieutenant  Smith.  On  the  morning 
of  the  14th  of  December,  about  daybreak,  I  had  arisen 
and  was  occupied  in  building  a  fire,  this  being  my 
daily  duty.  Suddenly  the  room  was  filled  with  light, 
and  looking  up,  I  saw  through  the  windows  a  ball  of 
fire,  nearly  the  size  of  the  moon,  passing  across  the 
heavens  from  northwest  to  southeast.  It  was  at  an 
immense  height,  and  of  intense  brilliancy.  Having 
passed  the  zenith,  it  swiftly  descended  toward  the 
earth :  while  still  at  a  great  elevation  it  burst,  with 
three  successive  explosions,  into  fiery  fragments.  The 
report  was  like  three  claps  of  rattling  thunder  in  quick 
succession. 

My  father,  who  saw  the  light  and  heard  the 
sounds,  declared  it  to  be  a  meteor  of  extraordinary 
magnitude.  It  was  noticed  all  over  the  town,  and 
caused  great  excitement.  On  the  following  day  the 
news  came  that  huge  fragments  of  stone  had  fallen 
in  the  adjacent  town  of  Weston,  some  eight  or  ten 

for  yeara,  and  became  a  proverb,  significant  of  delay  and  diplomatic  chi 
canery.  "  I would  as  soon  attempt  to  settle  the  off  air  of the  Chesapeake" 
was  a  common  mode  of  characterizing  any  dispute  which  seemed  inter 
minable.  Commodore  Barron  was  suspended  from  his  command,  and 
it  was  some  painful  allusion  to  this  by  Commodore  Decatur,  tha*  caused 
a  duel  between  these  two  persons,  which  ended  in  the  death  of  the  lat 
ter,  March  22,  1820. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  -277 

miles  southeast  of  Kidgefield.  The  story  spread  far 
and  wide,  and  some  of  the  professors  of  Yale  College 
came  to  the  place,  and  examined  the  fragments  of 
this  strange  visitor  from  the  skies.  It  appeared 
that  the  people  in  the  neighborhood  heard  the  rush 
ing  of  the  stones  through  the  air,  as  well  as  the  shock 
when  they  struck  the  earth.  One,  weighing  two  hun 
dred  pounds,  fell  on  a  rock,  which  it  splintered — its 
huge  fragments  plowing  up  the  ground  around  to  the 
extent  of  a  hundred  feet.  One  piece,  weighing  twen 
ty-five  pounds,  was  taken  to  New  Haven,  where  it  is 
still  to  be  seen,  in  the  mineralogical  cabinet  of  the 
college.  The  professors  estimated  this  meteor*  to  be 
half  a  mile  in  diameter,  and  to  have  traveled  through 
the  heavens  at  the  rate  of  two  or  three  hundred  miles 
a  minute. 

On  this  extraordinary  occasion  the  lieutenant  came 
to  our  house,  according  to  his  wont,  and  for  several 
successive  evenings  discoursed  to  us  upon  the  sub 
ject.  I  must  endeavor  to  give  you  a  specimen  of  his 
performances. 

*  The  extraordinary  meteor,  here  alluded  to,  was  so  distinctly  ob 
served,  as  to  have  settled  many  points  respecting  meteoric  stones,  which 
were  before  involved  in  some  doubt.  The  immense  speed  of  its  prog 
ress  and  its  enormous  size  were  determined  by  the  fact  that  it  was  seen 
at  the  moment  of  its  explosion,  through  a  space  more  than  a  hundred 
miles  in  diameter,  and  that  it  passed  across  the  zenith  in  about  ten 
seconds.  It  appears  probable  that  it  was  not  a  solid  mass,  nor  is  it  to 
be  supposed  that  more  than  a  small  portion  of  it  fell  to  the  earth  when 
the  explosion  took  place.  It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  we  have 
yet  no  satisfactory  theory  as  to  the  origin  and  nature  of  these  wonder 
ful  bodies. 


278  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

"  It  seems  to  me,  sir,"  said  he,  addressing  my  fa 
ther,  "  that  these  meteors,  or  falling  stars,  or  what  not, 
are  very  strange  things,  and  have  not  received  due 
attention  from  the  learned  world.  They  are  of  great 
antiquity,  sir:  their  appearance  is  recorded  as  far 
back  as  654  B.  c.  One  is  spoken  of  by  the  elder 
Pliny,  sir,  which  fell  near  the  town  of  Gallipoli,  in 
Asia  Minor,  about  405  B.  c.  This  was  to  be  seen  in 
Pliny's  time — that  'is,  five  hundred  years  afterward, 
and  was  then  as  big  as  a  wagon,  sir.  From  these 
remote  dates  down  to  the  present  time,  these  wonder 
ful  phenomena  have  occurred  at  intervals,  so  that  two 
hundred  instances  are  on  record.  It  is  probable  that 
many  more  have  passed  unnoticed  by  man,  either  in 
the  night,  or  in  remote  places,  or  in  the  vast  oceans 
which  cover  two  thirds  of  the  earth's  surface.  In  gen 
eral,  sir,  these  meteors  send  down  showers  of  stones, 
of  various  sizes.  Some  of  the  fragments  are  no  big 
ger  than  a  pea ;  others  are  of  greater  magnitude — in 
one  instance  weighing  twenty-five  thousand  pounds. 

"  "Well,  sir,  this  subject  becomes  one  of  importance, 
And  the  inquiry  as  to  what  these  strange  things  are, 
demands  attention  of  the  philosopher.  I  have  stud 
ied  the  subject  profoundly ;  I  have  looked  into  the  va 
rious  theories,  and  am  by  no  means  satisfied  with  any 
of  them,  sir.  Some  suppose  these  meteors  to  be  cast 
out  of  the  volcanic  craters  of  the  moon,  but  that  sup 
position  I  deem  incompatible  with  Scripture,  and  the 
general  aspect  of  the  universe.  The  Bible  represents 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  279 

nature  as  harmonious  :  it  speaks  of  the  morning  stars 
as  singing  together.  It  is  impious,  then,  to  suppose 
that  the  moon,  a  mere  satellite  of  the  earth,  can  be 
in  a  state  of  rebellion,  and  discharging  its  destructive 
batteries  upon  the  earth,  its  lord  and  master.  Besides, 
the  moon  thus  constantly  firing  at  the  earth  would, 
in  the  course  of  time,  be  all  shot  away." 

"That  is,"  said  my  father,  "it  would  get  out  of 
ammunition,  as  the  Americans  did  at  Bunker  Hill  ?" 

"  Just  so,  sir  :  therefore  I  look  upon  these  as  crude 
opinions,  arising  from  a  superficial  view  of  the  uni 
verse.  I  have  examined  the  subject,  sir,  and  am 
inclined  to  the  opinion  that  these  phenomena  are 
animals  revolving  in  the  orbits  of  space  between  the 
heavenly  bodies.  Occasionally,  one  of  them  comes 
too  near  the  earth,  and  rushing  through  our  atmo 
sphere  with  immense  velocit}7,  takes  fire  and  ex 
plodes  !" 

"  This  is  rather  a  new  theory,  is  it  not?"  said  my 
father.  "It  appears  that  these  meteoric  stones,  in 
whatever  country  they  fall,  are  composed  of  the  same 
ingredients — mostly  silex,  iron,  and  nickel :  these 
substances  would  make  rather  a  hard  character,  if  en- 
dowed  with  animal  life,  and  especially  with  the  capa 
city  of  rushing  through  -space  at  the  rate  of  two  or 
three  hundred  miles  a  minute,  and  then  exploding  ?" 

"These  substances  I  consider  only  as  the  shell  of 
the  animal,  sir." 

'You  regard  the  creature  as  a  huge  shell-fish,  then  ?" 


LKTTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

"  Not  necessarily  a  fish,  for  a  whole  order  of  na 
ture,  called  Crustacea,  has  the  bones  on  the  outside. 
In  this  case  of  meteors,  I  suppose  them  to  be  cov 
ered  with  some  softer  substance,  for  it  frequently 
happens  that  a  jelly-like  matter  comes  down  with 
meteoric  stones.  This  resembles  coagulated  blood ; 
and  thus  what  is  called  bloody  rain  or  snow,  has 
often  fallen  over  great  spaces  of  country.  Now, 
when  the  chemists  analyze  these  things — the  stones, 
which  I  consider  the  bones,  and  the  jelly,  which  I 
consider  the  fat,  and  the  rain,  which  I  consider  the 
blood — they  find  them  all  to  consist  of  the  same  ele 
ments — that  is,  silex,  iron,  nickel,  &c.  None  but 
my  animal  theory  will  harmonize  all  these  phenom 
ena,  sir." 

"But,"  interposed  my  father,  "consider  the  enor 
mous  size  of  your  aerial  monsters.  I  recollect  to  have 
read  only  a  short  time  since,  that  in  the  year  1803, 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  inhabitants 
of  several  towns  of  Normandy,  in  France,  heard 
noises  in  the  sky,  like  the  peals  of  cannon  and  mus 
ketry,  with  a  long-continued  roll  of  drums.  Looking 
upward,  they  saw  something  like  a  small  cloud  at  an 
immense  elevation,  which  soon  seemed  to  explode, 
sending  its  vapor  in  all  directions.  At  last  a  hissing 
noise  was  heard,  and  then  stones  fell,  spreading  over 
a  country  three  miles  wide  by  eight  miles  long.  No 
less  than  two  thousand  pieces  were  collected,  weigh 
ing  from  one  ounce  to  seventeen  pounds.  That  must 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  281 

have  been  rather  a  large  animal — eight  miles  long 
and  three  miles  wide  !" 

"  What  is  that,  sir,  in  comparison  with  the  earth, 
which  Kepler,  the  greatest  philosopher  that  ever 
lived,  conceived  to  be  a  huge  beast?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  did  he  prove  it  ?" 

"  He  gave  good  reasons  for  it,  sir.  He  found  ver  j 
striking  analogies  between  the  earth  and  animal  ex 
istences  :  such  as  the  tides,  indicating  its  breathing 
through  vast  internal  lungs  ;  earthquakes,  resembling 
eructations  from  the  stomach  ;  and  volcanoes,  sugges 
tive  of  boils,  pimples,  and  other  cutaneous  eruptions." 

"  I  think  I  have  seen  your  theory  set  to  verse." 

Saying  this,  my  father  rose,  and  bringing  a  book, 
read  as  follows : 

"  To  me  things  are  not  as  to  vulgar  eyes 
I  would  all  nature's  works  anatomize : 
This  world  a  living  monster  seems  to  me, 
Rolling  and  sporting  in  the  aerial  sea : 
The  soil  encompasses  her  rocks  and  stones. 
As  flesh  in  animals  encircles  bones. 
I  see  vast  ocean,  like  a  heart  in  play, 
Pant  systole  and  diastole  every  day, 
And  by  unnumber'd  venus  streams  supplied, 
Up  her  broad  rivers  force  the  aerial  tide. 
The  world's  great  lungs,  monsoons  and  trade-winds  show — 
From  east  to  west,  from  west  to  east  they  blow  • 
The  hills  are  pimples,  which  earth's  face  defile, 
And  burning  Etna  an  eruptive  boil. 
On  her  high  mountains  living  forests  grow, 
And  downy  grass  o'erspreads  the  vales  below  : 


282  LETTEE8 BIOGBAPHICJLL, 

From  her  vast  body  perspirations  rise, 
Condense  in  clouds  and  float  beneath  the  skies."* 

My  father  having  closed  the  book,  the  profound 
lieutenant,  who  did  not  conceive  it  possible  that  a 
thing  so  serious  could  be  made  the  subject  of  a  joke, 
said : 

"  A  happy  illustration  of  my  philosophy,  sir,  though 
I  can  not  commend  the  form  in  which  it  is  put.  If  a 
man  has  any  thing  worth  saying,  sir,  he  should  use 
prose.  Poetry  is  only  proper  when  one  wishes  to 
embellish  folly,  or  dignify  trifles.  In  this  case  it  is 
otherwise,  I  admit ;  and  I  am  happy  to  find  so  pow 
erful  a  supporter  of  my  animal  theory  of  meteors.  I 
shall  consider  the  subject,  and  present  it  for  the  con 
sideration  of  the  philosophic  world." 

One  prominent  characteristic  of  this  our  Ridgefield 
philosopher  was,  that  when  a  great  event  came  about, 
he  fancied  that  he  had  foreseen  and  predicted  it  from 
the  beginning.  Now  about  this  time  Fulton  actually 
succeeded  in  his  long-sought  application  of  steam  to 

*  This  is  from  the  "  Oration  which  might  have  teen,  delivered"  by 
Francis  Hopkiuson,  LL.  D.,  published  in  a  volume  entitled,  "  American 
Poems,  selected  and  original,'1'1  LitchflelS,  Conn.,  1793.  This  work  I  con 
sidered,  in  my  youth,  one  of  the  marvels  of  Amerii-an  literature :  in 
point  of  fact  it  comprised  nearly  all  the  living  American  poetry  at  that 
era.  The  chief  names  in  its  galaxy  of  stars  were,  Trumbnll,  tho  author 
of  M'Fingal,  Timothy  Dwight,  Joel  Barlow,  David  Humphries,  Lemuel 
Hopkins,  William  Livingston,  Richard  Alsop,  Theodore  Dwight,  and 
Philip  Freneau.  It  is  now  not  without  interest,  especially  an  one  of 
the  signs  of  those  times — the  taste,  tone,  scope,  and  extent  of  the  cur 
rent  indigenous  poets  and  poetry— only  sixty  years  ago.  At  that  era 
Connecticut  was  the  focal  point  of  poetic  inspiration  on  this  continent. 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  283 

navigation.  The  general  opinion  of  the  country  had 
been,  all  along,  that  he  was  a  monomaniac,  attempt 
ing  an  impossibility.  He  was  the  standing  theme  of 
cheap  newspaper  wit,  and  the  general  God-send  of 
orators,  who  were  hard  run  for  a  joke.  Lieutenant 
Smith,  who  was  only  an  echo  of  what  passed  around 
him,  during  the  period  of  Fulton's  labors,  participated 
in  the  curreat  contempt ;  but  when  the  news  came,  in 
October,  1807,  that  he  had  actually  succeeded — that 
one  of  his  boats  had  walked  the  waters  like  a  thing  of 
life,  at  the  rate  of  five  miles  an  hour,  against  the  cur 
rent  of  the  Hudson  river — then,  still  an  echo  of  the 
public  voice — did  he  greatly  jubilate. 

"  I  told  you  so  :  I  told  you  so  !"  was  his  first  ex 
clamation,  as  he  entered  the  house,  swelling  with  the 
account. 

"  Well,  and  what  is  it  ?"  said  my  father. 

"  Fulton  has  made  his  boat  go,  sir !  I  told  you 
how  it  would  be,  sir.  It  opens  a  new  era  in  the  his 
tory  of  navigation.  We  shall  go  to  Europe  in  ten 
days,  sir!" 

Now  you  will  readily  understand,  that  in  these 
sketches  I  do  not  pretend  to  report  with  literal  pre 
cision  the  profound  discourses  of  our  Bidgefield  sa 
vant  ;  I  remember  only  the  general  outlines,  the  rest 
being  easily  suggested.  My  desire  is  to  present  the 
portrait  of  one  of  the  notables  of  our  village — one 
whom  I  remember  with  pleasure,  and  whom  I  con 
ceive  to  be  a  representative  of  the  amiable,  and  per- 


284  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

haps  useful  race  of  fussy  philosophers  to  be  found  in 
most  country  villages.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  Yan 
kee  Pickwick,  full  of  knowledge,  and  a  yearning  de 
sire  to  make  everybody  share  in  his  learning.  As 
was  proper,  he  was  a  prophet,  an  "  I-TOLD-YOU-SO  !' 
w*ho  foresees  every  thing  after  it  has  happened.  Un 
like  Mat  Olmstead,  who  believed  too  little,  perhaps 
he  believed  too  much  :  for  whatever  he  saw  in  print, 
he  considered  as  proved.  If  he  ever  doubted  any 
thing,  it  was  when  he  had  not  been  the  first  to  reveal 
it  to  the  village.  Yet  whatever  his  foibles,  I  was 
certainly  indebted  to  him  for  many  hours  of  amuse 
ment,  and  no  doubt  for  a  great  deal  of  information. 

From  the  town  oracle,  I  turn  to  the  town  miser. 
Granther  Baldwin,  as  I  remember  him,  was  threescore 
years  and  ten — perhaps  a  little  more.  He  was  a  man 
of  middle  size,  but  thin,  wiry,  and  bloodless,  and  hav 
ing  his  body  bent  forward  at  a  sharp  angle  with  his 
hips,  while  his  head  was  thrown  back  over  his  shoul 
ders — giving  his  person  the  general  form  of  a  reversed 
letter  Z.  His  complexion  was  brown  and  stony ;  his 
eye  gray  and  twinkling,  with  a  nose  and  chin  almost 
meeting  like  a  pair  of  forceps.  His  hair — standing  out 
with  an  irritable  frizz — was  of  a  rusty  gray.  He  was 
always  restless,  and  walked  and  rode  with  a  sort  ol 
haggish  rapidity.  At  church,  he  wriggled  in  his  seat, 
tasted  fennel,  and  bobbed  his  head  up  and  down  and 
around.  He  could  not  afford  tobacco,  so  he  chewed, 
with  a  constant  activity,  either  an  oak  chip  or  the 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,   ETC.  285 

roots  of  elecampane,  which  was  indigenous  in  the 
lane  near  his  house.  On  Sundays  he  was  decent  in 
his  attire,  but  on  week-days  he  was  a  beggarly  curios 
ity.  It  was  said  that  he  once  exchanged  hats  with  a 
scarecrow,  and  cheated  scandalously  in  the  bargain. 
His  boots — a  withered  wreck  of  an  old  pair  of  white- 
tops — dangled  over  his  shrunken  calves,  and  a  coat 
in  tatters  fluttered  from  his  body.  He  rode  a  switch- 
tailed,  ambling  mare,  which  always  went  like  the 
wind,  shaking  the  old  gentleman  merrily  from  right 
to  left,  and  making  his  bones,  boots,  and  rags  rustle 
like  his  own  bush-harrow.  Familiar  as  he  was,  the 
school-boys  were  never  tired  of  him,  and  when  he 
passed,  "  There  goes  Granther  Baldwin !"  was  the  in 
variable  ejaculation. 

I  must  add — in  order  to  complete  the  picture — that 
in  contrast  to  his  elvish  leanness  and  wizard  activity, 
his  wife  was  bloated  with  fat,  and  either  from  indo 
lence  or  lethargy,  dozed  away  half  her  life  in  the 
chimney  corner.  It  was  said,  and  no  doubt  truly, 
that  she  often  went  to  sleep  at  the  table,  sometimes 
allowing  a  rind  of  bacon  to  stick  out  of  her  mouth 
till  her  nap  was  over.  I  have  a  faint  notion  of  hav 
ing  seen  this  myself.  She  spent  a  large  part  of  her 
life  in  cheating  her  husband  out  of  fourpence-ha1  pen 
nies,*  of  which  more  than  a  peck  were  found  secreted 
in  an  old  chest,  at  her  death. 

*  According  to  the  old  New  England  currency,  the  Spanish  sixteenth 
of  a  dollar — the  sixpence  of  New  York  and  the  picayune  of  Louisiana— 


286  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

It  was  the  boast  of  this  man  that  he  had  risen  from 
poverty  to  wealth,  and  he  loved  to  describe  the  pro 
cess  of  his  advancement.  He  always  worked  in  the 
corn-field  till  it  was  so  dark  that  he  could  see  his  hoe 
strike  fire.  When  in  the  heat  of  summer  he  was  obliged 
occasionally  to  let  his  cattle  breathe,  he  sat  on  a  sharp 
stone,  lest  he  should  rest  too  long.  He  paid  half  a 
dollar  to  the  parson  for  marrying  him,  which  he  al 
ways  regretted,  as  one  of  his  neighbors  got  the  job 
done  for  a  pint  of  mustard-seed.  On  fast-days,  he 
made  his  cattle  go  without  food  as  well  as  himself. 
He  systematically  stooped  to  save  a  crooked  pin  or  a 
rusty  nail,  as  it  would  cost  more  to  make  it  than  to 
pick  it  up.  Such  were  his  boasts — or  at  least,  such 
were  the  things  traditionally  imputed  to  him. 

He  was  withal  a  man  of  keen  faculties  ;  sagacious 
in  the  purchase  of  land,  as  well  as  in  the  rotation  of 
crops.  He  was  literally  honest,  and  never  cheated 
any  one  out  of  a  farthing,  according  to  his  arithmetic 
— though  he  had  sometimes  an  odd  way  of  reckoning. 
It  is  said  that  in  his  day — the  Connecticut  age  of  blue 
— the  statute  imposed  a  fine  of  one  dollar  for  profane 
swearing.  During  this  period,  Granther  Baldwin 
employed  a  carpenter  who  was  somewhat  notoriously 
addicted  to  this  vice.  Granther  kept  a  strict  account 
of  every  instance  of  transgression,  and  when  the  job 


was  fourpence-halfpenny.  This  word  was  formerly  the  shibboleth  of 
the  Yankees — every  one  being  set  down  as  a  New  Englander  who  said 
fourptnoe-hd 'penny. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  287 

was  done,  and  the  time  came  to  settle  the  account,  he 
said  to  the  carpenter — 

"  You've  worked  with  me  thirty  days,  I  think,  Mr. 
Kellogg?" 

"  Yes,  Granther,"  was  the  reply. 

"  At  a  dollar  a  day,  that  makes  thirty  dollars,  I 
think?" 

"  Yes,  Granther." 

"Mr.  Kellogg,  I  am  sorry  to  observe  that  you 
have  a  very  bad  habit  of  taking  the  Lord's  name  in 
vain  " 

"  Yes,  Granther." 
„ "  Well,  you  know  that's  agin  the  law." 

"  Yes,  Granther." 

"  And  there's  a  fine  of  one  dollar  for  each  offense." 

"  Yes,  Granther." 

"  Well — here's  the  account  I've  kept,  and  I  find 
you've  broken  the  law  twenty-five  times  ;  that  is,  six 
teen  times  in  April,  and  nine  in  May.  At  a  dollar 
a  time,  that  makes  twenty-five  dollars,  don't  it?" 

"  Yes,  Granther.", 

"  So  then,  twenty-five  from  thirty  leaves  five :  it 
appears,  therefore,  that  there  is  a  balance  of  five  dol 
lars  due  to  you.  How'll  you  take  it,  Mr.  Kellogg  ? 
In  cash,  or  in  my  way — say  in  'taters,  pork,  and 
other  things?" 

At  this  point,  the  carpenter's  brow  lowered,  but 
with  a  prodigious  effort  at  composure,  he  replied— 

"  Well,  Granther,  you  may  keep  the  five  dollars, 


288  LKTTERS — BIOGKAPHICAL, 

and  I'll  take  it  out  in  my  way,  that  is,  in  swearing !" 
Upon  this  he  hurled  at  the  old  gentleman  a  volley 
of  oaths,  quite  too  numerous  and  too  profane  to  re 
peat. 

Now  I  do  not  vouch  for  the  precise  accuracy  of 
this  story  in  its  application  to  Granther  Baldwin.  I 
only  say  it  was  one  of  the  things  laid  to  him/  A 
man  of  marked  character  is  very  apt  to  be  saddled 
with  all  the  floating  tales  that  might  suit  him.  I  re 
member  once  to  have  told  a  well-authenticated  story 
of  Ethan  Allen,  when  Dr.  L  . . .,  a  German  professor, 
being  present,  laughed  outright,  saying,  "  I  have 
heard  my  father  tell  the  same  story  of  old  Baron  Von 
Skippenhutten,  and  declare  that  he  was  present  when 
the  thing  happened  I" 

I  need  not  enlarge  upon  the  adventures  between 
Granther  Baldwin  and  the  school-boys,  who  took  de 
light  in  pocketing  his  apples,  pears,  and  nuts.  These 
things  were  so  abundant  in  those  days,  that  everybody 
picked  and  ate,  without  the  idea  of  trespass.  But 
Granther's  heart  was  sorely  afllicted  at  these  dis 
pensations.  He  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  losing 
a  pocketful  of  apples,  or  a  handful  of  butternuts, 
chestnuts,  or  walnuts,  even  if  they  lay' decaying  in 
heaps  upon  his  grounds.  As  I  have  said,  his  house 
and  farm  were  close  by  West  Lane  school,  and  it  was 
quite  a  matter  of  course  that  his  hard,  unrelenting 
conservatism  should  clash  with  the  ideas  of  the 
natural  rights  of  schoolboys,  entertained  by  such 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC'.  '2>H 

free-born  youths  as  those  at  this  seminary.  They 
loved  the  fruit,  and  considered  liberal  pickings  to  be 
their  birthright.  Had  the  old  gentleman  let  them 
alone,  or  had  he  smiled  on  them  in  their  small  pil- 
ferings,  they  had,  no  doubt,  been  moderate  in  their 
plunder.  But  when  he  made  war  on  them — even 
unto  sticks,  stones,  and  pitchforks — the  love  of  fun 
and  the  glory  of  mischief  added  an  indescribable  rel 
ish  to  their  forays  upon  his  woods  and  orchards.  I 
confess  to  have  been  drawn  in  more  than  once  to 
these  misdoings.  Perhaps,  too,  I  was  sometimes  a 
leader  in  them.  I  confess,  with  all  due  contrition, 
that  when  the  old  miser,  hearing  the  walnuts  rattle 
down  by  the  bushel  in  the  forest  back  of  his  house 
— knowing  that  mischief  was  in  the  wind — came 
forth  in  a  fury,  pitchfork  in  hand ;  when  I  have 
heard  his  hoarse  yet  impotent  threats  ;  I  have  rather 
enjoyed  than  sympathized  with  his  agonies.  Poor 
old  gentleman — let  me  now  expiate  my  sins  by  doing 
justice  to  his  memory  ! 

It  is  true  he  was  a  miser — selfish  and  mean  by  na 
ture.  Born  in  poverty,  and  only  rising  from  this  con 
dition  by  threescore  years  and  ten  of  toil  and  parsi 
mony,  was  it  possible  for  him  to  be  otherwise  ?  What 
a  burden  of  sin  and  misery  is  often  laid  upon  a  single 
soul !  And  yet  Granther  Baldwin  was  not  wholly 
lost.  He  professed  religion,  and  the  New  Man  wres 
tled  bravely  with  the  Old  Man.  The  latter  got  the 
better  too  often,  no  doubt ;  for  avarice  once  lodged 

VOL.  I.— 13 


290  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

in  the  soul  is  usually  the  last  vice  that  capitulates  to 
Christianity.  It  so  readily  assumes  the  guise  of  re 
spectable  virtues  —  frugality,  providence,  industry, 
prudence,  economy — that  it  easily  dupes  the  heart 
that  gives  it  shelter. 

And  besides,  religion  in  its  sterner  exercises  for 
bids  the  pleasures  of  life,  in  which  mankind  generally 
content  the  universal  craving  for  excitement.  The 
moral  constitution  of  man — the  mind  and  the  heart — 
have  their  hunger  and  their  thirst  as  well  as  the  body. 
These  can  not  be  annihilated :  if  they  are  not  ap 
peased  in  one  way,  they  will  be  in  another.  Old  Bur 
ton  says  they  are  like  badgers  :  if  you  stop  up  one 
hole,  they  will  dig  out  at  another.  And  thus,  if  a 
man  is  too  rigid  in  his  creed  to  allow  the  genial  excite 
ments  of  society,  he  is  very  likely  to  satisfy  himself 
with  something  worse.  He  generally  resorts  to  se 
cret  indulgences  of  some  kind,  and  thus  lays  the  axe 
at  the  root  of  all  religion,  by  establishing  a  system  of 
hypocrisy.  To  a  man  thus  situated,  the  respectable 
vice  of  avarice  is  commended,  for  while,  as  I  have 
said,  it  takes  the  guise  of  various  virtues,  it  furnishes 
gratification  to  the  desire  of  excitement  by  its  accu 
mulations,  its  growing  heaps  of  gold,  its  enlarging 
boundaries  of  land,  its  spreading  network  of  bonds 
and  mortgages,  its  web  of  debt  woven  at  the  rate  of 
compound  interest  over  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men 
— debtors,  borrowers,  speculators,  and  other  worship 
ers  of  Mammon. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  291 

It  is  so  easy  therefore  to  be  misled  by  this  demon 
of  avarice,  that  I  shall  deal  gently  with  it  in  Gran- 
ther  Baldwin's  case,  seeing  that  he  had  so  many 
temptations  in  his  nature  and  his  position.  Never 
theless,  I  am  bound  to  say  that  it  so  dried  up  the 
fountains  of  his  heart  as  to  render  him  absolutely 
insensible  even  to  the  idea  of  personal  appearance — 
as  if  God  gave  man  his  own  image  to  wear  a  scare 
crow's  hat,  and  boots  that  a  beggar  would  despise. 
But  for  his  avarice,  he  might  have  discovered  that 
want  of  decency  is  want  of  sense ;  but  for  his  ava 
rice,  his  heart  might  have  been  the  sun  of  a  system, 
circling  around  the  fireside  and  diffusing  its  blessings 
over  each  member  of  the  family  ;  but  for  his  avarice, 
he  might,  being  rich,  and  increased  in  goods,  have 
even  enlarged  his  heart,  and  been  the  benefactor  of 
the  neighborhood. 

Still,  I  shall  not  parade  these  sins  before  you :  let 
me  rather  speak  of  the  old  man's  virtues.  He  was  a 
firm  believer  in  the  Bible,  and  set  the  example  of  im 
plicit  submission  to  its  doctrines,  as  he  discovered 
them.  He  made  an  open  profession  of  his  faith,  and 
in  sickness  and  in  health,  in  rain  and  shine,  in  sum 
mer  and  winter,  he  sustained  the  established  institu 
tions  of  religion.  No  weather  ever  prevented  him 
from  attending  church,  though  he  lived  nearly  two 
miles  from  the  place  of  worship.  Often  have  I  seen 
him  on  a  Sunday  morning,  facing  the  keen  blast, 
plodding  his  way  thither,  when  it  seemed  as  if  his 


292  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

heart  mast  be  reduced  to  an  icicle.  He  attended  all 
funerals  within  the  precincts  of  the  place.  He  was 
present  at  every  town  meeting :  he  paid  his  taxes, 
civil  and  ecclesiastical,  at  the  appointed  day.  He 
kept  thanksgivings  and  fasts — the  first  gingerly,  and 
the  last  with  all  his  heart.  He  had  a  clock  and  a 
noon-mark,  and  when  they  varied,  he  insisted  that 
the  sun  was  wrong.  He  believed  profoundly  in  arith 
metic,  and  submitted,  without  repining,  to  its  decrees. 
Here  was  the  skeleton  of  a  man  and  a  Christian  ;  all 
that  it  wanted  was  a  soul ! 

One  sketch  more,  and  my  gallery  of  eccentricities 
is  finished.  Men  hermits  have  been  frequently  heard 
of,  but  a  woman  hermit  is  of  rare  occurrence.  Nev 
ertheless,  Ridgefield  could  boast  of  one  of  these  among 
its  curiosities.  Sarah  Bishop  was,  at  the  period  of 
my  boyhood,  a  thin,  ghostly  old  woman,  bent  and 
wrinkled,  but  still  possessing  a  good  deal  of  activity. 
She  lived  in  a  cave,  formed  by  nature,  in  a  mass  of 
projecting  rocks  that  overhung  a  deep  valley  or  gorge 
in  "West  Mountain.  This  was  about  four  miles  from 
our  house,  and  was,  I  believe,  actually  within  the 
limits  of  North  Salem ;  but  being  on  the  eastern 
slope  of  the  mountain,  it  was  most  easily  accessible 
from  Ridgefield,  and  hence  its  tenant  was  called  an 
inhabitant  of  our  town. 

This  strange  woman  was  no  mere  amateur  recluse. 
The  rock — bare  and  desolate — was  actually  her  home, 
except  that  occasionally  she  strayed  to  the  neighbor- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  29? 

ing  villages,  seldom  being  absent  more  than  one  or 
two  days  at  a  time.  She  never  begged,  but  received 
such  articles  as  were  given  to  her.  She  was  of  a 
highly  religious  turn  of  mind,  and  at  long  intervals 
came  to  our  church,  and  partpok  of  the  sacrament. 
She  sometimes  visited  our  family — the  only  one  thus 
favored  in  the  town — and  occasionally  remained  over 
night.  She  never  would  eat  with  us  at  the  table,  nor 
engage  in  general  conversation.  Upon  her  early  his 
tory  she  was  invariably  silent ;  indeed,  she  spoke  of 
her  affairs  with  great  reluctance.  She  neither  seemed 
to  have  sympathy  for  others,  nor  to  ask  it  in  return. 
If  there  was  any  exception,  it  was  only  in  respect  to 
the  religious  exercises  of  the  family  :  she  listened  in 
tently  to  the  reading  of  the  Bible,  and  joined  with 
apparent  devotion  in  the  morning  and  evening  prayer. 
I  have  very  often  seen  this  eccentric  personage 
stealing  into  the  church,  or  moving  along  the  street, 
or  wending  her  way  through  lane  and  footpath  up  to 
her  mo'untain  home.  She  always  appeared  desirous  of 
escaping  notice,  and  though  her  step  was  active,  she 
had  a  gliding,  noiseless  movement,  which  seemed  to 
ally  her  to  the  spirit-world.  In  my  rambles  among 
the  mountains,  I  have  seen  her  passing  through  the 
forest,  or  sitting  silent  as  a  statue  upon  the  prostrate 
trunk  of  a  tree,  or  perchance  upon  a  stone  or  mound, 
scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  the  inanimate  ob 
jects — wood,  earth,  and  rock — around  her.  She  had 
a  sense  of  propriety  as  to  personal  appearance,  for 


294  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

when  she  visited  the  town,  she  was  decently,  though 
poorly  clad  ;  when  alone  in  the  wilderness  she  seemed 
little  more  than  a  squalid  mass  of  rags.  My  excur 
sions  frequently  brought  me  within  the  wild  precincts 
of  her  solitary  den.  Several  times  I  have  paid  a  visit 
to  the  spot,  and  in  two  instances  found  her  at  home. 
A  place  more  desolate — in  its  general  outline — more 
absolutely  given  up  to  the  wildness  of  nature,  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive.  Her  cave  was  a  hollow  in  the 
rack,  about  six  feet  square.  Except  a  few  rags  and 
an  old  basin,  it  was  without  furniture — her  bed  being 
the  floor  of  the  cave,  and  her  pillow  a  projecting  point 
of  the  rock.  It  was  entered  by  a  natural  door  about 
three  feet  wide  and  four  feet  high,  and  was  closed  in 
severe  weather  only  by  pieces  of  bark.  At  a  distance 
of  a  few  feet  was  a  cleft,  where  she  kept  a  supply  of 
roots  and  nuts,  which  she  gathered,  and  the  food  that 
was  given  her.  She  was  reputed  to  have  a  secret 
depository,  where  she  kept  a  quantity  of  antique 
dresses,  several  of  them  of  rich  silks,  and  apparently 
suited  to  fashionable  life  :  though  I  think  this  was  an 
exaggeration.  At  a  little  distance  down  the  ledge, 
there  was  a  fine  spring  of  water,  in  the  vicinity  of 
which  she  was  often  found  in  fair  weather. 

There  was  no  attempt,  either  in  or  around  the  spot, 
to  bestow  upon  it  an  air  of  convenience  or  comfort. 
A  small  space  of  cleared  ground  was  occupied  by  a 
few  thriftless  peach-trees,  and  in  summer  a  patch  of 
starveling  beans,  cucumbers,  and  potatoes.  Up  two  or 


THE  HERMITESS.     Vol.  1,  p.  294. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC. 

three  of  the  adjacent  forest-trees  there  clambered  lux 
uriant  grape-vines,  highly  productive  in  their  season. 
With  the  exception  of  these  feeble  marks  of  cultiva 
tion,  all  was  left  ghastly  and  savage  as  nature  made  it. 
The  trees,  standing  upon  the  tops  of  the  cliff,  and  ex 
posed  to  the  shock  of  the  tempest,  were  bent,  and 
stooping  toward  the  valley — their  limbs  contorted, 
and  their  roots  clinging,  as  with  an  agonizing  grasp, 
into  the  rifts  of  the  rocks  upon  which  they  stood. 
Many  of  them  were  hoary  with  age,  and  hollow  with 
decay ;  others  were  stripped  of  their  leaves  by  the 
blasts,  and  others  still,  grooved  and  splintered  by 
the  lightning.  The  valley  below,  enriched  with  the 
decay  of  centuries,  and  fed  with  moisture  from  the 
surrounding  hills,  was  a  wild  paradise  of  towering 
oaks,  and  other  giants  of  the  vegetable  kingdom, 
with  a  rank  undergrowth  of  tangled  shrubs.  In  the 
distance,  to  the  east,  the  gathered  streams  spread  out 
into  a  beautiful  expanse  of  water  called  Long  Pond. 

A  place  at  once  so  secluded  and  so  wild  was,  of 
course,  the  chosen  haunt  of  birds,  beasts,  and  reptiles. 
The  eagle  built  her  nest  and  reared  her  young  in 
the  clefts  of  the  rocks ;  foxes  found  shelter  in  the 
caverns,  and  serpents  reveled  alike  in  the  dry  hol 
lows  of  the  cliffs,  and  the  dank  recesses  of  the  val 
ley.  The  hermitess  had  made  companionship  with 
these  brute  tenants  of  the  wood.  The  birds  had 
become  so  familiar  with  her,  that  they  seemed  to  heed 
her  almost  as  little  as  if  she  had  been  a  stone.  The 


290  LKTTERS — BIOGRAPHIC  A.I., 

fox  fearlessly  pursued  his  hunt  and  his  gambols  in 
her  presence.  The  rattlesnake  hushed  his  monitory 
signal  as  he  approached  her.  Such  things,  at  least, 
were  entertained  by  the  popular  belief.  It  was  said, 
indeed,  that  she  had  domesticated  a  particular  rattle 
snake,  and  that  he  paid  her  daily  visits.  She  was 
accustomed — so  said  the  legend — to  bring  him  milk 
from  the  villages,  which  he  devoured  with  great  relish. 
It  will  not  surprise  you  that  a  subject  like  this 
should  have  given  rise  to  one  of  my  first  poetical  ef 
forts — the  first  verses,  in  fact,  that  I  ever  published. 
I  gave  them  to  Brainard,  then  editor  of  the  Mirror, 
at  Hartford,  and  he  inserted  them,  probably  about  the 
year  1823.  I  have  not  a  copy  of  them,  and  can  onlv 
recollect  the  following  stanzas  : 

For  many  a  year  the  mountain  hag 

Was  a  theme  of  village  wonder, 
For  she  made  her  home  in  the  dizzy  crag, 

Where  the  eagle  bore  his  plunder. 

Up  the  beetling  cliff  she  was  seen  at  night 

Like  a  ghost  to  glide  away ; 
But  she  came  again  with  the  morning  light, 

From  the  forest  wild  and  gray. 

Her  face  was  wrinkled,  and  passionless  seem'd, 

As  her  bosom,  all  blasted  and  dead — 
And  her  colorless  eye  like  an  icicle  gleam'd, 

Yet  110  sorrow  or  sympathy  shed. 

Her  long  snowy  locks,  as  the  winter  drift, 

On  the  wind  were  backward  cast ; 
And  her  shrivel'd  form  glided  by  so  swift, 

You  had  said  'twere  a  ghost  that  pass'd. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  297 

Her  house  was  a  cave  in  a  giddy  rock, 

That  o'erhung  a  lonesome  vale ; 
And  'twas  deeply  scarr'd  by  the  lightning's  shock, 

And  swept  by  the  vengeful  gale. 

As  alone  on  the  cliff  she  musingly  sate — 

The  fox  at  her  fingers  would  snap  ; 
The  crow  would  sit  on  her  snow-white  pate, 

And  the  rattlesnake  coil  in  her  lap. 

The  night-hawk  look'd  down  with  a  welcome  eye, 

As  he  stoop'd  in  his  airy  swing; 
And  the  haughty  eagle  hover'd  so  nigh, 

As  to  fan  her  long  locks  with  his  wing. 

But  when  winter  roll'd  dark  his  sullen  wave, 

From  the  west  with  gusty  shock, 
Old  Sarah,  deserted,  crept  cold  to  her  cave, 

And  slept  without  bed  in  her  rock. 

No  fire  illumined  her  dismal  den, 

Yet  a  tatter'd  Bible  she  read  ; 
For  she  saw  in  the  dark  with  a  wizard  ken, 

And  talk'd  with  the  troubled  dead. 

And  often  she  mutter'd  a  foreign  name, 

With  curses  too  fearful  to  tell, 
And  a  tale  of  horror — of  madness  and  shame — 

She  told  to  the  walls  of  her  cell ! 

I  insert  these  lines — not  as  claiming  any  praise,  nor 
as  rigidly  accurate  in  the  delineation  of  their  subject 
— but  as  a  sketch  of  the  impressions  she  made  upon 
the  public  mind,  vividly  reflected  by  my  own  im 
agination. 

The  facts  in  respect  to  this  Nun  of  the  Mountain 
were  indeed  strange  enough  without  any  embellish- 

1  ?,* 


298  LKTTKR3 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ments  of  fancy.  During  the  winter  she  was  confined 
for  several  mpuths  to  her  cell.  At  that  period  she 
lived  upon  roots  and  nuts,  which  she  had  laid  in  for 
the  season.  She  had  no  fire,  and,  deserted  even  by 
her  brute  companions,  she  was  absolutely  alone, 
save  that  she  seemed  to  hold  communion  with  the 
invisible  world.  She  appeared  to  have  no  sense  of 
solitude,  no  weariness  at  the  slow  lapse  of  days  and 
months :  night  had  no  darkness,  the  tempest  no 
terror,  winter  no  desolation,  for  her.  When  spring 
returned,  she  came  down  from  her  mountain,  a  mere 
shadow — each  year  her  form  more  bent,  her  limbs 
more  thin  and  wasted,  her  hair  more  blanched,  her 
eye  more  colorless.  At  last  life  seemed  ebbing  away 
like  the  faint  light  of  a  lamp,  sinking  into  the  socket. 
The  final  winter  came — it  passed,  and  she  was  not 
seen  in  the  villages  around.  Some  of  the  inhabitants 
went  to  the  mountain,  and  found  her  standing  erect, 
her  feet  sunk  in  the  frozen  marsh  of  the  valley.  In 
this  situation,  being  unable,  as  it  appeared,  to  extri 
cate  herself — alone,  yet  not  alone — she  had  yielded 
her  breath  to  Him  who  gave  it ! 

The  early  history  of  this  strange  personage  was 
involved  in  some  mystery.  So  much  as  this,  how 
ever,  was  ascertained,  that  she  was  of  good  family,  and 
lived  on  Long  Island.  During  the  Eevolutionary  war 
— in  one  of  the  numerous  forays  of  the  British  soldiers 
— her  father's  house  was  burned  ;  and,  as  if  this  were 
not  enough,  she  was  made  the  victim  of  one  of  those 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,   ETC.  29tf 

demoniacal  acts,  which  in  peace  are  compensated  by 
the  gibbet,  but  which,  in  war,  embellish  the  life  of 
the  soldier.  Desolate  in  fortune,  blighted  at  heart, 
she  fled  from  human  .society,  and  for  a  long  time  con 
cealed  her  sorrows  in  the  cavern  which  she  had  acci 
dentally  found.  Her  grief — softened  by  time,  per 
haps  alleviated  by  a  vail  of  insanity — was  at  length 
so  far  mitigated,  that,  although  she  did  not  seek 
human  society,  she  could  endure  it.  The  shame 
of  her  maidenhood — if  not  forgotten — was  obliter 
ated  by  her  rags,  her  age,  and  her  grisly  visage — in 
which  every  gentle  trace  of  her  sex  had  disappeared. 
She  continued  to  occupy  her  cave  till  the  year  1810 
or  1811,  when  she  departed,  in  the  manner  I  have 
described,  and  we  may  hope,  for  a  brighter  and  hap 
pier  existence. 


LETTER    XX. 

A  Lfing  Farewell — A  Return— Rldgefteld  as  it  is — The  Past  and  Present 
Compared. 

MY    DEAR    C****** 

In  the  autumn  of  1808  an  event  occurred  which 
suddenly  gave  a  new  direction  to  my  life,  and  took  me 
from  Kidgefield,  never  to  return  to  it,  but  as  a  visitor. 
My  narrative  is  therefore  'about  to  take  a  final  leave 
of  my  birthplace,  but  before  I  say  farewell,  let  me 
give  you  a  hasty  sketch  of  it,  as  it  now  is — or  as  jt 


300  LETTERS  —  BIOGRAPHICAL, 

appeared  to  me  last  summer  —  after  a  long  absence. 
My  brother  had  set  out  with  me  to  pay  it  a  visit,  but 
at  New  Haven  he  was  taken  ill,  and  returned  to  his 
home  at  Hartford.  I  pursued  my  journey,  and  a  few 
days  after,  gave  him  a  rapid  sketch  of  my  observa 
tions,  in  a  letter  —  which  I  beg  leave  here  to  copy. 


YOEK,  August  20,  1855. 
DEAR  BROTHER  : 

I  greatly  regret  that  you  could  not  continue  your  journey 
with  us  to  Ridgefield.  The  weather  was  fine,  and  the  season  — 
crowning  the  earth  with  ahnndance  —  made  every  landscape 
beautiful.  The  woods  which,  as  you  know,  abound  along  the 
route,  spread  their  intense  shade  over  the  land,  thus  mitigating 
the  heat  of  the  unclouded  sun  ;  and  the  frequent  fields  of  Indian 
corn,  with  their  long  leaves  and  silken  tassels,  all  fluttering  in  the 
breeze,  gave  a  sort  of  holiday-look  to  the  scene.  Of  all  agri 
cultural  crops  this  is  the  most  picturesque  and  the  most  impo 
sing.  Let  others  magniloquize  upon  the  vineyards  of  France 
and  the  olive  orchards  of  Italy  ;  I  parted  with  these  scenes  a  few 
weeks  since,  and  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that,  as  a  spectacle  to  the 
eye,  our  maize  fields  are  infinitely  superior.  Leaving  New  Haven 
by  rail,  we  reached  Norwalk  In  forty  minutes  ;  an  hour  after  we 
were  at  Ridgefield  —  having  journeyed  three  miles  by  stage,  from 
the  Danbury  and  Norwalk  station,  Thus  we  performed  a  jour 
ney,  in  less  than  two  hours,  which  cost  a  day's  travel  in  our 
boyhood.  You  can  well  comprehend  that  we  had  a  good  time 
of  it. 

As  I  approached  the  town,  I  began  to  recognize  localities  — 
roads,  houses,  and  hills.  I  was  in  a  glow  of  excitement,  for  it 
was  nineteen  years  since  I  had  visited  the  place,  and  there  was 
a  mixture  of  the  strange  and  familiar  all  around,  which  was  at 
once  pleasing  and  painful  ;  pleasing,  because  it  revived  many 
cherished  memories,  and  painful,  because  it  suggested  that  time 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  301 

\s  a  tomb,  into  which  man  and  his  works  are  ever  plunging,  like 
a  stream  flowing  on,  only  to  disappear  in  an  unfathomable  gulf. 
The  bright  village  of  to-day  is  in  fact  the  graveyard  of  the  past 
generation.  I  was  here  like  one  risen  from  the  dead,  and  come 
to  look  on  the  place  which  I  once  knew,  but  which  I  shall  soon 
know  no  more.  All  seemed  to  me  a  kind  of  dream — half  real 
and  hall' imaginary — now  presenting  some  familiar  and  cherished 
remembrance,  and  now  mocking  me  with  strange  and  baffling 
revelations. 

Nevertheless,  all  things  considered,  I  enjoyed  the  scene.  The 
physiognomy  of  the  town — a  swelling  mound  of  hills,  rising  in 
a  crescent  of  mountains — was  all  as  I  had  learned  it  by  heart  in 
childhood.  To  the  north,  the  bending  line  of  Aspen  Ledge ;  to 
the  east,  the  Eedding  Hills ;  to  the  west,  the  Highlands  of  the 
Hudson;  to  the  south,  the  sea  of  forest-crowned  undulations, 
sloping  down  to  Long  Island  Sound, — all  in  a  cool  but  brilliant 
August  sun,  and  all  tinted  with  intense  verdure,  presented  a 
scene  to  me — the  pilgrim  returning  to  his  birthplace — of  unri 
valed  interest. 

In  general  the-  whole  country  seemed  embowered  in  trees- 
fresh  and  exuberant,  and  strongly  in  contrast  with  the  worn-out 
lands  of  the  old  countries — with  openings  here  and  there  upon 
hillside  and  valley,  consisting  of  green  meadow,  or  pasture,  or 
blooming  maize,  or  perhaps  patches  of  yellow  stubble,  for  the 
smaller  grains  had  been  already  harvested.  As  I  came  within 
the  precincts  of  the  village,  I  could  not  but  admire  the  fields,  as 
well  on  account  of  their  evident  richness  of  soil  and  excellent 
cultivation,  as  their  general  neatness.  The  town,  you  know,  was 
originally  blessed  or  cursed,  as  the  case  may  be,  by  a  most  abun 
dant  crop  of  stones.  To  clear  the  land  of  these  was  the  Hercu 
lean  task  of  the  early  settlers.  For  many  generations,  they 
usurped  the  soil,  obstructed  the  plow,  dulled  the  scythe,  and 
now,  after  ages  of  labor,  they  are  formed  into  sturdy  walls, 
neatly  laid,  giving  to  the  entire  landscape  au  aspect  not  only 
of  comfort,  but  refinement.  In  our  day,  these  were  rudely 


302  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

piled  up  with  frequent  breaches — the  tempting  openings  for 
vagrant  sheep,  and  loose,  yearling  cattle.  No  better  evidence 
can  be  afforded  of  a  general  progress  and  improvement,  than 
that  most  of  these  have  been  relaid  with  something  of  the  art 
and  nicety  of  mason-work.  The  Mat  Olmsteads  and  Azor  Smiths 
of  the  past  half  century,  who  laid  stone  wall  for  Granther  Bald 
win  and  General  King  at  a  dollar  a  rod,  would  be  amazed  to  see 
that  the  succeeding  generation  has  thrown  their  works  aside  in 
disgust,  and  replaced  them  by  constructions  having  somewhat, 
of  the  solidity  and  exactitude  of  fortifications. 

As  we  passed  along,  I  observed  that  nearly  all  the  houses  which 
existed  when  we  were  boys,  had  given  place  to  new,  and  for  the 
most  part  larger,  structures.  Here  and  there  was  an  original 
dwelling.  A  general  change  had  passed  over  the  land  :  swamps 
had  been  converted  into  meadows ;  streams  that  sprawled  across 
the  path,  now  flowed  tidily  beneath  stone  bridges ;  little  shallow- 
ponds — the  haunts  of  muddling  geese — had  disappeared:  the  un 
dergrowth  of  woods  and  copses  had  been  cleared  away  ;  briers 
and  brambles,  once  thick  with  fruit,.or  abounding  in  birds'-neste, 
or  perchance  the  hiding-place  of  snakes,  had  been  extirpated, 
and  corn  and  potatoes  flourished  in  their  stead.  In  one  place, 
where  1  recollected  to  have  unearthed  a  woodchuck,  I  saw  a  gar 
den,  and  among  its  redolent  pumpkins,  cucumbers,  and  cabbages, 
was  a  row  of  tomatoes — a  plant  which  in  my  early  days  was 
only  known  as  a  strange  exotic,  producing  little  red  balls,  which 
bore  the  enticing  name  of  love-apples ! 

At  last  we  came  into  the  main  street.  This  is  the  same — yet 
not  the  same.  Ah1  the  distances  seemed  less  than  as  I  had 
marked  them  in  my  memory.  From  the  meeting-house  to 
'Squire  Keeler's — which  I  thought  to  be  a  quarter  of  a  mile — it  is 
but  thirty  rods.  At  the  same  time  the  undulations  seemed  more 
frequent  and  abrupt.  The  old  houses  are  mostly  gone,  and  more 
sumptuous  ones  are  in  their  place.  A  certain  neatness  and  ele 
gance  have  succeeded  to  the  plain  and  primitive  characteristics 
of  other  days. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  303 

The  street,  on  the  whole,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  I  know 
of.  It  is  more  than  a  mile  in  length  and  a  hundred  and  twenty 
feet  in  width,  ornamented  with  two  continuous  lines  of  trees — 
elms,  sycamores,  and  sugar-maples — save  only  here  and  there  a 
brief  interval.  Some  of  these,  in  front  of  the  more  imposing 
houses,  are  truly  majestic.  The  entire  street  is  carpeted  with  a 
green  sod,  soft  as  velvet  to  the  feet.  The  high-road  runs  in  the 
middle,  with  a  foot -walk  on  either  side.  These  passages  are  not 
paved,  but  are  covered  with  gravel,  and  so  neatly  cut,  that  they 
appear  like  pleasure-grounds.  All  is  so  bright  and  so  tasteful 
that  you  might  expect  to  see  some  imperative  sign-board,  warn 
ing  you,  on  peril  of  the  law,  not  to  tread  upon  the  grass.  Yet, 
as  I  learned,  all  this  embellishment  flows  spontaneously  from 
the  choice  of  the  people,  and  not  from  police  regulations. 

The  general  aspect  of  the  street,  however,  let  me  observe,  is 
not  sumptuous,  like  Hartford  and  New  Haven,  or  even  Fair- 
field.  There  is  still  a  certain  quaintness  and  primness  about  the 
place.  Here  and  there  you  see  old  respectable  houses,  showing 
the  dim  vestiges  of  ancient  paint,  while  the  contiguous  gardens, 
groaning  with  rich  fruits  and  vegetables,  and  the  stately  rows  of 
elms  in  front,  declare  it  to  be  taste,  and  not  necessity,  that  thus 
cherishes  the  reverend  hue  of  unsophisticated  clapboards,  and  the 
venerable  rust  with  which  time  baptizes  unprotected  shingles. 
There  is  a  stillness  about  the  town  which  lends  favor  to  this  char 
acteristic  of  studied  rusticity.  There  is  no  fast  driving,  no  shout 
ing,  no  railroad  whistle — for  you  must  remember  that  the  station 
of  the  Danbury  and  Norwalk  line  is  three  miles  off.  Few  peo 
ple  are  to  be  seen  in  the  streets,  and  those  who  do  appear  move 
with  an  air  of  leisure  and  tranquillity.  It  would  seem  dull  and 
almost  melancholy  were  it  not  that  all  around  is  so  thrifty,  so 
tidy,  so  really  comfortable.  Houses — white  or  brown — with 
green  window-blinds,  and  embowered  in  lilacs  and  fruit-trees, 
and  seen  beneath  the  arches  of  wide-spreading  American  elms — 
the  finest  of  the  whole  elm  family — can  never  be  otherwise  than 
cheerful. 


30-i  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

I  went  ot  course  to  the  old  Keeler  tavern,  for  lodgings.  The 
sign  was  gone,  and  thongh  the  house  retained  its  ancient  form, 
it  was  so  neatly  painted,  and  all  around  had  such  a  look  of 
repose,  that  I  feared  it  had  ceased  from  its  ancient  hospitalities. 
I,  however,  went  to  the  door  and  rapped :  it  was  locked !  A 
bad  sign,  thought  I.  Ere  long,  however,  a  respectable  dame  ap 
peared,  turned  the  key,  and  let  me  in.  It  was  Anne  Keeler 
converted  into  Mrs.  Ressequie.  Had  it  been  her  mother,  I  should 
only  have  said  that  she  had  grown  a  little  taller  and  more  dig 
nified  :  as  it  was,  the  idea  crossed  iny  mind — 

"  Fanny  was  younger  once  than  she  is  now !" 

But  it  seemed  to  me  that  her  matronly  graces  fully  compensated 
for  all  she  might  have  lost  of  earlier  pretensions.  She  looked  at 
me  gazingly,  as  if  she  half  knew  me.  She  was  about  inquiring 
my  name,  when  I  suggested  that  she  might  call  me  Smith,  and 
begged  her  to  tell  me  if  she  could  give  me  lodgings.  She  replied 
that  they  did  sometimes  receive  strangers,  though  they  did  not 
keep  a  tavern.  I  afterward  heard  that  the  family  was  rich, 
and  that  it  was  courtesy  more  than  cash,  which  induced  them 
to  keep  up  the  old  habit  of  the  place.  I  was  kindly  received, 
though  at  first  as  a  stranger.  After  a  short  time  I  was  found  out, 
and  welcomed  as  a  friend.  What  fragrant  butter,  what  white 
bread,  what  delicious  succotash  they  gave  me !  And  as  to  the 
milk — it  was  just  such  as  cows  gave  fifty  years  ago,  and  upon  the 
slightest  encouragement  positively  produced  an  envelope  of  gold 
en  cream !  Alas  1  how  cows  have  degenerated — especially  in  the 
great  cities  of  the  earth, — in  New  York,  London,  or  Paris — it  is  all 
the  same.  He  who  wishes  to  eat  with  a  relish  that  the  Astor 
House  or  Morley's  or  the  Grand  Hotel  du  Louvre  can  not  give, 
should  go  to  Ridgefield,  and  put  himself  under  the  care  of  Mrs. 
Ressequie.  If  he  be  served,  as  I  was,  by  her  daughter — a  thing, 
however,  that  I  can  not  promise — he  may  enjoy  a  lively  and  pleas 
ant  conversation  while  he  discusses  his  meal.  When  you  go  there 
— as  go  you  must— do  not  forget,  to  order  ham  and  eggs,  for  they 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC  A  L,  ETC.  305 

are  such  as  we  ate  in  our  childhood — not  a  mass  of  red  leather 
steeped  in  grease,  and  covered  with  a  tough,  bluish  gum — as 
is  now  the  fashion  in  these  things.  As  to  blackberry  and  huc 
kleberry  pies,  and  similar  good  gifts,  you  will  find  them  just  such 
as  our  mother  made  fifty  years  ago,  when  these  bounties  of  Prov 
idence  were  included  in  the  prayer — "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread,"  and  were  a  worthy  answer  to  such  a  petition. 

Immediately  after  my  arrival,  waiting  only  to  deposit  my 
carpet-bag  in  my  room,  I  set  out  to  visit  our  house — our  former 
home.  As  I  came  near  I  saw  that  the  footpath  we  had  worn 
across  Deacon  Benedict's  lot  to  shorten  the  Distance  from  the 
street,  had  given  place  to  a  highway.  I  entered  this,  and  was 
approaching  the  object  of  my  visit,  when  I  was  overtaken  by 
a  young  man,  walking  with  a  long  stride. 

"  Whose  house  is  this  on  the  hill  ?"  said  I. 

"  It  is  mine,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Indeed  ;  you  must  have  a  fine  view  from  your  upper  win 
dows?" 

"  Yes,  the  view  is  famous,  and  the  house  itself  is  somewhat 
noted.  It  was  built  by  Peter  Parley,  and  here  he  lived  many 
years !" 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  place.  The  strauger,  after 
I  had  looked  at  the  premises  a  few  moments,  said,  "  Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  ascend  the  hill  to  the  north,  from  which  the  view 
is  very  extensive?"  I  gave  assent,  and  we  went  thither — soon 
finding  ourselves  in  the  old  Keeler  lot,  on  the  top  of  High  Eidge, 
bo  familiar  to  our  youthful  rambles.  With  all  the  vividness  of  my 
early  recollections,  I  really  had  no  adequate  idea  of  the  beauty  of 
the  scene,  as  now  presented  to  us.  The  circle  of  view  was  indeed 
less  than  I  had  imagined,  for  I  once  thought  it  immense ;  but 
tl>*  objects  were  more  striking,  more  vividly  tinted,  more  pic 
turesquely  disposed.  Long  Island  Sound,  which  extends  for  sixty 
miles  before  the  eye,  except  as  it  is  hidden  here  and  there  by 
intercepting  hills  mid  trees,  seems  nearer  than  it  did  to  the  inex 
erieMccd  vi--ii>ii  <>;'in  c.hiMhnud.  I  could  distinuish  the  dilfer- 


306  LETTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ent  kinds  of  vessels  on  the  water,  and  the  island  itself — stretch 
ed  out  in  a  long  blue  line  beyond — presented  its  cloud-like  tis 
sues  of  forest,  alternating  with  patches  of  yellow  sandbanks  along 
the  shore.  I  could  distinctly  indicate  the  site  of  Norwalk ;  and 
the  spires  peering  through  the  mass  of  trees  to  the  eastward, 
spoke  suggestively  of  the  beautiful  towns  and  villages  that  line 
the  northern  banks  of  the  Sound. 

West  Mountain  seemed  nearer  and  less  imposing  than  I  had 
imagined,  but  the  sea  of  mountains  beyond,  terminating  in  the 
Highlands  of  the  Hudson,  more  than  fullilled  my  remembrances. 
The  scene  has  no  abrupt  and  startling  grandeur  from  this  point 
of  view,  but  in  that  kind  of  beauty  which  consists  in  blending 
the  peace  and  quietude  of  cultivated  valleys  with  the  sublimity 
of  mountains — all  in  the  enchantment  of  distance,  and  all  man 
tled  with  the  vivid  hues  of  summer — it  equals  the  fairest  scenes  in 
Italy.  The  deep  blue  velvet  which  is  thrown  over  our  northern 
landscapes,  differs  indeed  from  the  reddish-purple  of  the  Apen 
nines,  but  it  is  in  all  things  as  poetic,  as  stimulating  to  the  imagi 
nation,  as  available  to  the  painter,  as  suggestive  to  the  poet — to 
all,  indeed,  who  feel  and  appreciate  the  truly  beautiful.  As  I 
gazed  upon  this  lovely  scene,  how  did  the  memories  of  early  days 
come  back,  clothed  in  the  romance  of  childhood !  I  had  then 
no  idea  of  distance  beyond  these  mountains ;  no  conception  of 
landscape  beauty,  no  idea  of  picturesque  sublimity — that  sur 
passed  what  was  familiar  to  me  here.  Indeed,  all  my  first 
measures  of  grandeur  and  beauty,  in  nature,  were  formed  upon 
these  glorious  models,  now  before  me.  How  often  have  I  stood 
upon  this  mound,  at  the  approach  of  sunset,  and  gazed  in  speech 
less  wonder  upon  yonder  mountains,  glowing  as  they  were  in  the 
flood  of  sapphire  which  was  then  poured  upon  them !  I  pray  you 
to  excuse  my  constant  reference  to  foreign  lands ;  but  as  I  have 
just  left  them,  it  is  natural  to  make  comparisons  with  these  ob 
jects,  familiar  to  my  childhood.  Let  me  say,  then,  that  no  sunsets 
surpass  our  own  in  splendor,  nor  have  I  seen  any  thing  to  equal 
them  in  brilliancy,  when  the  retiring  orb  of  day,  as  if  to  shed 


HISTORICAL,  ANECPOTICAL,  ETC.  307 

glory  upon  his  departure,  pours  his  rays  upon  the  outstretched 
fleece  of  clouds,  and  these  reflect  their  blaze  upon  the  mountain 
landscape,  below.  Then,  for  a  brief  space,  as  you  know,  the 
heavens  seem  a  canopy  of  burnished  gold,  and  the  earth  beneath 
a  kingdom  robed  in  purple  velvet,  and  crowned  with  rubies 
and  sapphires.  In  Italy,  the  sunset  sky  has  its  enchantments, 
but  while  these  perhaps  surpass  the  same  exhibitions  of-  nature 
in  our  climate,  in  respect  to  a  certain  tranquil  softness  and  ex 
quisite  blending  of  rainbow  hues,  they  are  still  inferior,  in  gor 
geous  splendor,  to  the  scenes  which  I  have  been  describing. 

Having  taken  a  hasty  but  earnest  view  of  the  grand  panora 
ma  of  High  Ridge,  I  returned  with  my  guide  to  the  house.  I 
feigned  thirst,  and  begged  a  glass  of  water.  This  was  readily 
given,  and  I  tasted  once  more  the  nectar  of  our  "  old  oaken 
bucket."  After  glancing  around,  and  making  a  few  observa 
tions,  I  thanked  my  attendant  for  his  courtesy — who,  by  the 
way,  had  no  suspicion  that  I  knew  the  place  as  well  as  him 
self — and  took  my  leave,  and  returned  to  the  hotel.  My  emo 
tions  upon  thus  visiting  our  early  home — so  full  of  the  liveliest 
associations — it  would  be  utterly  in  vain  to  attempt  to  describa 

It  was  now  Saturday  evening,  which  I  spent  quietly  with  my 
host  and  his  family,  in  talking  over  old  times.  In  the  morning  I 
rose  early,  for  it  seemed  a  sin  to  waste  such  hours  as  these. 
Standing  on  the  northern  stoop  of  the  Keeler  tavern,  I  looked 
upon  the  beautiful  landscape  bounded  by  the  Redding  and  Dan- 
bury  hills,  and  saw  the  glorious  march  of  morning  over  the  scene. 
The  weather  was  clear,  and  the  serenity  of  the  Sabbath  was  in 
the  breath  of  nature  :  even  the  breezy  morn  soon  subsided  into 
stillness,  as  if  the  voice  of  God  hallowed  it.  The  birds  seemed  to 
know  that  He  rested  on  this  seventh  day.  As  the  sun  came  up, 
ttie  fluttering  leaves  sank  into  repose :  no  voice  of  lowing  herd 
)r  baying  hound  broke  over  the  hills.  All  was  silent  and  motion- 
•ess  in  the  street :  every  thing  seemed  to  feel  that  solemn  com 
mand — Remember  the  Sabbath-day! — save  only  a  strapping 
Shanghai  cock  in  Mr.  Lewis's  yard  over  the  way,  which  strut- 


L:-;JV::;:S— :n  01: \ \  nir  AI. 

ted,  crowed,  and  chased  the  hens — like  a  very  Mormon — evi 
dently  caring  for  none  of  these  things. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  first  bell  rang.  The  first  stroke  told  me 
that  it  was  not  the  same  to  which  my  childish  ear  was  accus 
tomed.  Upon  inquiry,  I  learned  that  on  a  certain  Fourth  of  July, 
some  ten  years  back,  it  was  rung  so  merrily  as  to  be  cracked ! 
Had  any  one  asked  me  who  was  likely  to  have  done  this,  1 

should  have  said  J  .  .  .  .  H ,  and  he  indeed  it  was.  With 

a  good-will,  however,  quite  characteristic  of  him,  he  caused  it 
to  be  replaced  by  a  new  one,  and  though  its  tone  is  deeper,  and 
even  more  melodious  than  the  old  one,  I  felt  disappointed,  and 
a  shade  of  sadness  came  over  my  mind. 

On  going  into  the  meeting-house,  I  found  it  to  be  totally 
changed.  The  pulpit,  instead  of  being  at  the  west,  was  at  the 
north,  and  the  galleries  had  been  transposed  to  suit  this  new 
arrangement.  The  Puritan  pine  color  of  the  pews  had  given 
way  to  white  paint.  The  good  old  oaken  floor  was  covered  bj 
Kidderminster  carpets.  The  choir,  instead  of  being  distributed 
into  four  parts,  and  placed  on  different  sides  of  the  gallery,  was 
all  packed  together  in  a  heap.  Instead  of  Deacon  Hawley  for 
chorister,  there  was  a  young  man  who  "  knew  not  Joseph,"  and 
in  lieu  of  a  pitch-pipe  to  give  the  key,  there  was  a  melodeon  to 
lead  the  choir.  Instead  of  Hear,  Old  Hundred,  Aylesbury,  Mont 
gomery,  or  New  Durham — songs  full  of  piety  and  pathos,  and  in 
which  the  whole  congregation  simultaneously  joined — they  sang 
modern  tunes,  whose  name  and  measure  I  did  not  know.  The 
performance  was  artistic  and  skillful,  but  it  seemed  to  lack  the 
unction  of  a  hearty  echo  from  the  bosom  of  the  assembly,  as  was 
the  saintly  custom  among  the  fathers. 

The  congregation  was  no  less  changed  than  the  place  itself,  for 
remember,  I  had  not  been  in  this  building  for  live  and  forty  years. 
The  patriarchs  of  my  boyhood — Deacon  Olmstead,  Deacon  Ben 
edict,  Deacon  Hawley,  Granther  Baldwin,  'Squire  Keeler,  Nathan 
Smith — -were  not  there,  nor  were  their  types  in  their  places.  A 
few  gray-haired  men  I  saw,  having  dim  and  fleeting  semblances 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC. 

to  these  Anakims  of  my  youthful  imagination,  but  who  they 
were,  I  conld  not  tell.  I  afterward  heard  that  most  of  them 
were  the  companions  of  my  early  days,  now  grown  to  manhood 
and  bearing  the  impress  of  their  parentage — blent  with  vestiges 
of  their  youth — thus  at  once  inciting  and  baffling  my  curiosity. 
For  the  most  part,  however,  the  assembly  was  composed  of  a 
new  generation.  In  several  instances  I  felt  a  strange  sort  of 
embarrassment  as  to  whether  the  person  I  saw  was  the  boy 
grown  up  or  the  papa  grown  down.  It  produces  a  very  odd 
confusion  of  ideas  to  realize  in  an  old  man  before  you,  the  play 
mate  of  your  childhood,  whom  you  had  forgotten  for  forty  years, 
but  who  in  that  time  has  been  trudging  along  in  life,  at  the  same 
pace  as  yourself.  At  first,  every  thing  looked  belittled,  degen 
erated  in  dimensions.  The  house  seemed  small,  the  galleries  low, 
the  pulpit  mean.  The  people  appeared  Lilliputian.  These  im 
pressions  soon  passed  off,  and  I  began  to  recognize  a  few  per 
sons  around  me.  William  Hawley  is  just  as  you  would  have 
expected ;  his  hair  white  as  snow,  his  countenance  mild,  refined, 
cheerful,  though  marked  with  threescore  and  ten.  Irad  Haw- 
ley,  though  he  has  his  residence  in  "Fifth  Avenue,"  spends  his 
summers  here,  and  begins  now  to  look  like  his  father  the  deacon. 
I  thought  I  discovered  Gen.  King  in  an  erect  and  martial  form 
in  one  of  the  pews,  but  it  proved  to  be  his  son  Joshua — who 
now  occupies  the  family  mansion,  and  worthily  stands  at  the 
head  of  the  house.  As  I  came  out  of  church,  I  was  greeted 
with  many  hearty  shakes  of  the  hand,  but  in  most  cases  I 
could  with  difficulty  remember  those  who  thus  claimed  recog 
nition. 

The  discourse  was  very  clever,  and  thoroughly  orthodox,  as 
it  should  be,  for  I  found  that  the  Confession  and  Covenant  of 
1750  were  still  in  force,  just  as  our  father  left  them.  Even  the 
eleventh  article  stands  as  it  was — "  You  believe  that  there  will 
be  a  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  a  day  of  judgment,  in  which 
God  will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness  by  Jesus  Christ ;  when 
the  righteous  shall  be  acquitted  and  received  to  eternal  life,  and 


MlU  LKTTKR3 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

the  wicked  shall  bo  sentenced  to  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for 
the  devil  and  his  angels." 

I  was,  I  confess,  not  a  little  shocked  to  hear  the  account  the 
minister  gave  of  the  church  members,  for  he  declared  that  they 
were  full  of  evil  thoughts — envy,  jealousy,  revenge,  and  all  un- 
charitableness.  He  said  he  knew  all  about  it,  and  could  testify 
that  they  were  a  great  deal  worse  than  the  world  in  general  be 
lieved,  or  conceived  them  to  be.  Indeed,  he  affirmed  that  it 
took  a  real  experimental  Christian  to  understand  how  totally 
depraved  they  were.  I  was  consoled  at  finding  that  this  was 
not  the  settled  minister—  Mr.  Clark — but  a  missionary,  accus 
tomed  to  preach  in  certain  lost  places  in  that  awful  Babylon, 
called  New  York.  Perhaps  the  sermon  was  adapted  to  the 
people  it  was  designed  for,  but  it  seemed  ill  suited  to  the 
latitude  and  longitude  of  such  a  quaint,  primitive  parish  as 
liidgefield,  which  is  without  an  oyster-cellar,  a  livery  stable,  a 
grog-shop,  a  lawyer,  a  broker,  a  drunkard,  or  a  profane  swearer. 

This  circumstance  reminded  me  of  an  itinerant  Boanerges, 
who,  in  his  migrations,  half  a  century  ago,  through  western  New 
York,  was  requested  to  prepare  a  sermon  to  be  preached  at  the 
execution  of  an  Indian,  who  had  been  convicted  of  murder,  and 
was  speedily  to  be  hung.  This  he  complied  with,  but  the  con 
vict  escaped,  and  the  ceremony  did  not  take  place.  The  preacher, 
however,  not  liking  to  have  so  good  a  thing  lost,  delivered  it  the 
next  Sabbath  to  a  pious  congregation  in  the  Western  Reserve, 
where  he  chanced  to  be — stating  that  it  was  composed  for  a 
hanging,  but  as  that  did  not  take  place,  he  would  preach  it  now, 
presuming  that  it  would  be  found  appropriate  to  the  occasion ! 

In  the  afternoon  we  had  a  begging  sermon  from  a  young  con 
verted  Jew,  who  undertook  to  prove  that  his  tribe  was  the  most 
interesting  in  the  world,  and  their  conversion  the  first  step  to 
ward  the  millennium.  After  the  sermon  they  took  up  a  contri 
bution  to  aid  him  in  getting  an  education ;  he  also  sold  a  little 
story-book  of  his  conversion  at  twelve  and  a  half  cents  a  copy, 
for  the  benefit  of  his  converted  sister.  I  have  no  objection  to 


HISTORICAL,    AXECDOTICAL,    KTC.  311 

Jews,  converted  or  unconverted,  but  I  must  say  that  ray  reve 
rence  for  the  house  of  God  is  such  that  I  do  not  like  to  hear 
there  the  chink  of  copper,  which  generally  prevails  in  a  contri- 
bntion-box.  Even  that  of  silver  and  gold  has  no  melody  for 
me,  in  such  a  place.  It  always  reminds  me  painfully  of  those 
vulgar  pigeon  dealers  who  were  so  summarily  and  so  properly 
scourged  out  of  the  Temple. 

The  old  dilapidated  Episcopal  church,  which  you  remember 
on  the  main  street — a  church  not  only  without  a  bishop,  but 
without  a  congregation — has  given  place  to  a  new  edifice  and 
stated  services,  with  a  large  and  respectable  body  of  worshipers. 
The  Methodists,  who  were  wont  to  assemble,  fifty  years  ago,  in 
Dr.  Baker's  kitchen,  have  put  up  a  new  house,  white  and  bright, 
and  crowded  every  Sabbath  with  attentive  listeners.  This  church 
numbers  two  hundred  members,  and  is  the  largest  in  the  place. 
Though,  in  its  origin,  it  seemed  to  thrive  upon  the  outcasts  of 
society — its  people  are  now  as  respectable  as  those  of  any  other 
religious  society  in  the  town.  No  longer  do  they  choose  to 
worship  in  barns,  schoolhouses,  and  byplaces  :  no  longer  do  they 
affect  leanness,  long  faces,  and  loose,  uncombed  hair :  no  longer 
do  they  cherish  bad  grammar,  low  idioms,  and  the  euphony  of 
a  nasal  twang,  in  preaching.  Their  place  of  worship  is  in  good 
taste  and  good  keeping:  their  dress  is  comely,  and  in  the 
fashion  of  the  day.  The  preacher  is  a  man  of  education,  refine 
ment,  and  dignity,  and  he  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clark — our  father's 
successor — exchange  pulpits,  and  call  each  other  brother !  Has 
not  the  good  time  come  ? 

On  Monday  morning,  I  took  a  wide  range  over  the  town  with 
Joshua  King,  who,  by  the  way,  is  not  only  the  successor,  but  in 
some  things  the  repetition  of  his  father.  He  represents  him  ip 
person — as  I  have  already  intimated — and  has  many  of  his  qual 
itiea.  He  has  remodeled  the  grounds  around  the  old  family  man 
eion,  amplifying  and  embellishing  them  with  much  judgment 
The  house  itself  is  unchanged,  except  by  paint  and  the  introduc 
tion  of  certain  articles  of  furniture  and  tasteful  decorations — tes- 


Z  12  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

timonials  of  the  proprietor's  repeated  visits  to  Europe.  Here, 
being  a  bachelor,  he  has  gathered  some  of  his  nieces,  and 
here  he  receives  the  members  of  the  King  dynasty  down  to  the 
third  generation — all  seeming  to  regard  it  as  the  Jerusalem  of 
the  family.  The  summer  gathering  is  delightful,  bringing  hither 
the  refinements  of  the  best  society  of  New  York,  Philadelphia, 
and  other  places.  Here  I  spent  some  pleasant  hours,  meeting, 
of  course,  many  of  the  neighbors,  who  came  to  see  me  with  al 
most  as  much  curiosity  as  if  I  had  been  the  veritable  Joyce 
Heth. 

In  all  parts  of  the  town  I  was  struck  with  the  evidences  of 
change — gentle,  gradual,  it  is  true — but  still  bespeaking  the 
lapse  of  half  a  century.  Along  the  main  street,  the  general 
outline  of  things  is  the  same,  but,  in  detail,  all  is  trans 
formed,  or  at  least  modified.  Most  of  the  old  houses  have 
disappeared,  or  have  undergone  such  mutations  as  hardly  to 
be  recognized.  New  and  more  expensive  edifices  are  scat 
tered  here  and  there.  If  you  ask  who  are  the  proprietors, 
you  will  be  told — Dr.  Perry,  Joshua  King,  Nathan  Smith — 
but  they  are  not  those  whom  we  knew  by  these  names — 
they  are  their  sons,  perhaps  their  grandsons.  Master  Steb- 
bins's  schoolhouse  is  swept  away,  and  even  the  pond  across 
the  road — the  scene  of  many  a  school-day  frolic — is  evaporated ! 
I  am  constantly  struck  with  the  general  desiccation  which  has 
passed  over  the  place ;  many  of  the  brooks,  which  formed  our 
winter  skating  and  sliding  places,  have  vanished.  I  looked  in 
vain  for  the  pool  back  of  Deacon  John  Benedict's  house — 
which  I  always  imagined  to  be  the  scene  of  the  ballad : 

"  What  shall  we  have  for  dinner,  Mrs.  Bond! 
There's  beef  in  the  larder  and  ducks  iu  the  pond: 

Dill,  dill,  dill,  dill,  dilled, 

Come  here  and  be  killed  !" 

Col.  Bradley's  house,  that  seemed  once  so  awful  and  so  exclu 
sive,  is  now  a  dim,  rickety,  and  tenantless  edifice,  for  sale,  with 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  313 

all  its  appurtenances,  for  twenty-five  hundred  dollars !  Is  it 
not  strange  to  see  this  once  proud  tenement,  the  subject  of 
blight  and  decay,  and  that  too  in  the  midst  of  general  prosper 
ity?  Nor  is  this  all:  it  has  just  been  the  subject  of  a  degra 
ding  hoax.  I  must  tell  you  the  story,  for  it  will  show  you  that 
the  march  of  progress  has  invaded  even  Ridgefield. 

About  three  days  since  there  appeared  in  the  village,  a  man 
claiming  to  be  the  son-in-law  of  George  Law.  In  a  mysterious 
manner  he  agreed  to  buy  the  Bradley  estate.  With  equal  mys 
tery,  he  contracted  to  purchase  several  other  houses  in.  the 
vicinity.  It  then  leaked  out  that  a  grand  speculation  was  on 
foot :  there  was  to  be  a  railroad  through  Ridgefield ;  the  town 
was  to  be  turned  into  a  city,  and  a  hotel,  resembling  the  Astor 
House,  was  to  take  the  place  of  the  old  dilapidated  shell  now 
upon  the  Bradley  premises!  An  electric  feeling  soon  ran 
through  the  village ;  speculation  began  to  swell  in  the  bosom 
of  society.  Under  this  impulse,  rocks  rose,  rivers  doubled, 
hills  mounted,  valleys  oscillated.  This  sober  town — anchored 
in  everlasting  granite,  having  defied  the  shock  of  ages — now 
trembled  in  the  hysterical  balance  of  trade. 

Two  days  passed,  and  the  bubble  burst ;  the  puflf-ball  was 
punctured  ;  the  sham  son-in-law  of  George  Law  was  discovered 
to  be  a  lawless  son  of  a  pauper  of  Danbury.  All  his  operations 
were  in  fact  a  hoax.  At  twelve  o'clock  on  Saturday  night  he 
was  seized,  and  taken  from  his  bed  by  an  independent  corps 
under  Capt.  Lynch.  They  tied  him  fast  to  a  buttonwood-tree 
in  the  main  street,  called  the  Liberty  Pole. 

"  No  man  e'er  felt  the  halter  draw, 
In  good  opinion  of  the  law :" 

At  all  events,  the  prisoner  deemed  it  a  great  incongruity  to  use 
an  institution  consecrated  to  the  rights  of  man  and  the  cause  of 
freedom,  for  the  purpose  of  depriving  him  of  the  power  to  seek 
happiness  in  his  own  way;  so  about  ten  o'clock  on  Sunday 
morning — finding  it  unpleasant  to  be  hi  this  situation  while  the 
VOL.  I.— 14 


314  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

people  went  by,  shaking  their  heads,  on  their  way  to  church — 
he  managed  to  get  out  his  penknife,  cut  his  cords,  and  make  a 
bee-line  for  South  Salem. 

Farther  on,  proceeding  northward,  I  found  that  Dr.  Baker's 
old  house — its  kitchen  the  cradle  of  Ridgefield  Methodism — had 
departed,  and  two  or  three  modern  edifices  were  near  its  site. 
Master  Stebbins's  house* — from  its  elevated  position  at  the  head 
of  the  street,  seeming  like  the  guardian  genius  of  the  place — still 
stands,  venerable  alike  from  its  dun  complexion,  its  antique 
form,  and  its  historical  remembrances.  Its  days  may  be  set  at 
a  hundred  years,  and  hence  it  is  an  antiquity  in  our  brief  chro 
nology.  It  almost  saw  the  birth  of  Ridgefield :  it  has  probably 
looked  down  upon  the  building  of  every  other  edifice  in  the  street. 
It  presided  over  the  fight  of  1777.  Close  by,  Arnold's  horse  was 
shot  under  him,  and  he,  according  to  tradition,  made  a  flying 
leap  over  a  six-barred  gate,  and  escaped.  Near  its  threshold 
the  British  cannon  was  planted,  which  sent  a  ball  into  the  north 
eastern  corner-post  of  'Squire  Keeler's  tavern,  and  which,  cov 
ered  up  by  a  sliding  shingle,  as  a  relic  too  precious  for  the  open 
air,  is  still  to  be  seen  there. 

The  old  house  I  found  embowered  in  trees — some,  primeval 
elms,  spreading  their  wide  branches  protectingly  over  the  roof, 
stoop,  and  foreground ;  others — sugar-maples,  upright,  symmetri 
cal,  and  deeply  verdant,  as  is  the  wont  of  these  beautiful  children 
of  our  American  forest.  Other  trees — apples,  pears,  peaches,  and 
plums,  bending  with  fruit — occupied  the  orchard  grounds  back  of 
the  house.  The  garden  at  the  left  seemed  a  jubilee  of  tomatoes, 
beets,  squashes,  onions,  cucumbers,  beans,  and  pumpkins.  A 
vine  of  the  latter  had  invaded  a  peach-tree,  and  a  huge  oval 
pumpkin,  deeply  ribbed,  and  now  emerging  from  its  bronze  hue 
into  a  golden  yellow,  swung  aloft  as  if  to  proclaim  the  victory. 
By  the  porch  was  a  thick  clambering  grape-vine,  presenting  iw 


*  For  an  engraving  of  this  building,  see  Lossing's  Field  Book,  vol 
i  p.  409. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  315 

purple  bunches  almost  to  your  mouth,  as  you  entered  the  door. 
T  knocked,  and  Anne  Stebbins,  my  former  schoolmate,  let  me 
in.  She  was  still  a  maiden,  in  strange  contrast  to  the  prolific 
and  progressive  state  of  all  around.  She  did  not  know  me,  but 
when  I  told  her  how  I  once  saw  her  climb  •  through  the  open 
ing  in  the  schoolhouse  wall,  overhead,  and  suggested  the  blue- 
mixed  hue  of  her  stockings — she  rallied,  and  gave  me  a  hearty 
welcome. 

You  will  no  doubt,  in  some  degree,  comprehend  the  feelings 
with  which  I  rambled  over  these  scenes  of  our  boyhood,  and  you 
will  forgive,  if  you  can  not  approve,  the  length  of  this  random 
epistle.  I  will  trespass  but  little  further  upon  your  patience. 
I  must  repeat,  that  the  general  aspect  of  the  town,  in  respect  to 
its  roads,  churches,  houses,  lands — all  show  a  general  progress 
in  wealth,  taste,  and  refinement.  Nor  is  this  advance  in  civili 
zation  merely  external.  William  Hawley — a  most  competent 
judge,  as  he  has  been  the  leading  merchant  of  the  place  for  forty 
years — mentioned  some  striking  evidences  of  this.  At  the  be 
ginning  of  this  century,  most  of  the  farmers  were  in  debt,  and 
a  large  part  of  their  lands  were  under  mortgage :  now  not  four 
farms  in  the  place  are  thus  encumbered.  Then  it  was  the  custom 
for  the  men  to  spend  a  good  deal  of  their  time,  and  especially  in 
winter,  at  the  stores  and  taverns,  in  tippling  and  small  gambling. 
This  practice  has  ceased.  Drunkenness,  profane  swearing,  Sab 
bath-breaking,  noisy  night  rows,  which  were  common,  are  now 
almost  wholly  unknown.  There  are  but  two  town  paupers,  and 
these  are  not  indigenous.  Education  is  better,  higher  in  its  stand 
ard,  and  is  nearly  universal.  Ideas  of  comfort  in  the  modes  of  life 
are  more  elevated,  the  houses  are  improved,  the  furniture  is  more 
convenient  and  more  abundant.  That  religion  has  not  lost  its 
hold  on  the  conscience,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  three  flour 
ishing  churches  exist ;  that  the  duties  of  patriotism  are  not  for 
gotten,  is  evinced  by  a  universal  attendance  at  the  polls  on 
election  days ;  at  the  same  time  it  is  clear  that  religious  and  po 
litical  discussions  have  lost  their  acerbity — thus  leaving  the  feel- 


310  LETTERS — BIOGR  APHIC  AL, 

ing  of  good  neighborhood  more  general,  and  the  tone  of  human 
ity  in  all  tilings  more  exalted. 

Is  there  not  encouragement,  hope,  in  these  things — for  Ridge- 
field  is  not  alone  in  this  forward  march  of  society  ?  It  is  in  the 
general  tide  of  prosperity — economical,  social,  and  moral — but 
%n  example  of  what  has  been  going  on  all  over  New  England — 
perhaps  over  the  whole  country.  We  hear  a  great  deal  of  the 
iniquities  in  the  larger  cities ;  but  society  even  there,  is  not 
worse  than  formerly :  these  places — their  houses,  streets,  prisons, 
brothels — are  exhausted,  as  by  an  air-pump,  of  all  their  doings, 
good  and  bad,  and  the  seething  mass  of  details  is  doled  out  day 
after  day,  by  the  penny  press,  to  appease  the  hunger  and  thirst 
of  society  for  excitement.  Thus,  what  was  once  hidden  is  now 
thrown  open,  and  seems  multiplied  and  magnified  by  a  dozen 
powerful  lenses — each  making  the  most  of  it,  and  seeking  to 
outdo  all  others  in  dressing  up  the  show  for  the  public  taste. 
If  you  will  make  the  comparison,  you  will  see  that,  now,  tip 
ping  over  an  omnibus,  or  the  foundering  of  a  ferry-boat,  takes 
up  more  space  in  a  newspaper,  than  did  six  murders  or  a 
dozen  conflagrations  fifty  years  ago.  Then  the  world's  do 
ings  could  be  dispatched  in  a  weekly  folio  of  four  pages,  with 
pica  type ;  now  they  require  forty  pages  of  brevier,  every  day. 
Our  population  is  increased — doubled,  quadrupled,  if  you  please 
— but  the  newspaper  press  has  enlarged  its  functions  a  thousand 
fold.  It  costs  more  paper  and  print  to  determine  whether  a  po 
liceman  of  New  York,  was  born  in  England  or  the  United  States, 
than  are  usually  consumed  in  telling  the  story  of  the  Revolution 
ary  war.  This  institution — the  Press — has,  in  fact,  become  a 
microscope  and  a  mirror — seeing  all,  magnifying  ah1,  reflecting 
all — until  at  last  it  requires  a  steady  brain  to  discover  in  its  shift 
ing  and  passing  panoramas,  the  sober,  simple  truth.  So  far  as 
the  subject  of  which  I  am  writing  is  concerned,  I  am  satisfied 
that  if  our  cities  seem  more  corrupt  than  formerly,  it  is  only  in 
appearance  and  not  in  reality.  If  we  hear  more  about  the  vices 
of  society,  it  is  because,  in  the  first  place,  things  are  more  ex- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  317 

posed  to  the  public  view,  and  in  the  next  place,  the  moral  stand 
ards  are  higher,  and  hence  these  evils  are  made  the  subject  of 
louder  and  more  noticeable  comment.  These  obvious  sugges 
tions  will  solve  whatever  difficulty  there  may  be  in  adopting  my 
conclusions. 

But  however  the  fact  may  be  as  to  our  larger  cities,  it  can 
not  be  doubted  that  all  over  New  England,  at  least,  there  has 
been  a  quiet,  but  earnest  and  steady  march  of  civilization — es 
pecially  within  the  last  forty  years.  The  war  of  1812  was  dis 
astrous  to  our  part  of  the  country ;  disastrous,  I  firmly  believe, 
to  our  whole  country.  In  New  England  it  checked  the  natural 
progress  of  society,  it  impoverished  the  people,  it  debased  their 
manners,  it  corrupted  their  hearts.  Let  others  vaunt  the  glory 
of  war ;  I  shall  venture  to  say  what  I  have  seen  and  known. 
We  have  now  had  forty  years  of  peace,  and  the  happy  ad 
vances  I  have  noticed — bringing  increased  light  and  comfort 
in  at  every  door,  rich  or  poor,  to  bless  the  inhabitants — are  its 
legitimate  fruits.  The  inherent  tendency  of  our  New  England 
society  is  to  improvement :  give  us  peace,  give  us  tranquillity, 
and  with  the  blessing  of  God  we  shall  continue  to  advance. 

You  will  not  suppose  me  to  say  that  government  can  do 
nothing :  the  prosperity  of  which  I  speak  is  in  a  great  measure 
imputable  to  the  encouragement  given,  for  a  series  of  years,  to 
our  domestic  industry.  When  farming  absorbed  society,  a  large 
part  of  the  year  was  lost,  or  worse  than  lost ;  because  tavern 
haunting,  tippling,  and  gambling  were  the  chief  resources  of  men 
in  the  dead  and  dreary  winter  months.  Manufactures  gave 
profitable  occupation  during  this  inclement  period.  Formerly 
the  markets  were  remote,  and  we  all  know,  from  the  records  of 
universal  history,  that  farmers  without  the  stimulus  of  ready 
markets,  sink  into  indolence  and  indifference.  The  protection, 
the  encouragement,  the  stimulating  of  our  manufacturing  and 
mechanical  industry,  created  home  markets  in  every  valley,  along 
every  stream — thus  rousing  the  taste,  energy,  and  ambition  of 
the  farmers  within  reach  of  these  pervading  influences.  Ridge- 


318  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

field  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  manufacturing  town ;  but  the 
beneficent  operation  of  the  multiplying  and  diversifying  of  the  oc 
cupations  of  society,  has  reached  this,  as  it  has  every  other  town 
and  village  in  the  State,  actually  transforming  the  condition  of 
the  people,  by  increasing  their  wealth,  multiplying  their  com 
forts,  enlarging  their  minds,  elevating  their  sentiments :  in  short, 
increasing  their  happiness. 

The  importance  of  the  fact  I  state — the  progress  and  improve 
ment  of  the  country  towns — is  plain,  when  we  consider  that  here, 
and  not  in  the  great  cities — New  York,  or  Boston,  or  Philadel 
phia — are  the  hope,  strength,  and  glory  of  our  nation.  Here, 
in  the  smaller  towns  and  villages,  are  indeed  the  majority  of  the 
people,  and  here  there  is  a  weight  of  sober  thought,  just  judg 
ment,  and  virtuous  feeling,  that  will  serve  as  rudder  and  ballast 
to  our  country,  whatever  weather  may  betide. 

As  I  have  so  recently  traveled  through  some  of  the  finest  and 
most  renowned  portions  of  the  European  continent,  I  find  my 
self  constantly  comparing  the  towns  and  villages  which  I  see 
here  with  these  foreign  lands.  One  thing  is  clear,  that  there  are 
in  continental  Europe  no  such  country  towns  and  villages  as 
those  of  New  England  and  some  other  portions  of  this  country. 
Not  only  the  exterior  but  the  interior  is  totally  different.  The 
villages  there  resemble  the  squalid  suburbs  of  a  city :  the  people 
are  like  then*  houses — poor  and  subservient — narrow  in  intellect, 
feeling,  and  habits  of  thought.  I  know  twenty  towns  in  France 
— having  from  two  to  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  where,  if  you  ex 
cept  the  prefects,  mayors,  notaries,  and  a  few  other  persons  in  each 
place — there  is  scarcely  a  family  that  rises  to  the  least  independ 
ence  of  thought,  or  even  a  moderate  elevation  of  character.  All 
the  power,  all  the  thought,  all  the  genius,  all  the  expanse  of  in 
tellect,  are  centered  at  Paris.  The  blood  of  the  country  is  drawn 
to  this  seat  and  center,  leaving  the  limbs  and  members  cold  and 
pulseless  "as  those  of  a  corpse. 

How  different  is  it  in  this  country :  the  life,  vigor,  power  of 
these  United  States  are  diffused  through  a  thousand  veins 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  319 

and  arteries  over  the  whole  people,  every  limb  nourished, 
every  member  invigorated  !  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Bos 
ton  do  not  give  law  to  this  country ;  that  comes  from  the  people, 
the  majority  of  whom  resemble  those  I  have  described  at  Ridge- 
field — farmers,  mechanics,  manufacturers,  merchants — independ 
ent  in  their  circumstances,  and  sober,  religious,  virtuous  in  then 
habits  of  thought  and  conduct.  I  make  allowance  for  the  sinister 
influence  of  vice,  which  abounds  in  some  places ;  for  the  debasing 
effects  of  demagogism  in  our  politicians  ;  for  the  corruption  of 
selfish  and  degrading  interests,  cast  into  the  general  current  of 
public  feeling  and  opinion.  I  admit  that  these  sometimes  make 
the  nation  swerve,  for  a  time,  from  the  path  of  wisdom,  but  the 
wandering  is  neither  wide  nor  long.  The  preponderating  na 
tional  mind  is  just  and  sound,  and  if  danger  comes,  it  will  mani 
fest  its  power  and  avert  it. 

But  I  must  close  this  long  letter,  and  with  it  bid  adieu  to 
my  birthplace.  Farewell  to  Ridgefield !  Its  soil  is  indeed 
stubborn,  its  climate  severe,  its  creed  rigid ;  yet  where  is 
the  landscape  more  smiling,  the  sky  more  glorious,  the  earth 
more  cheering?  Where  is  society  more  kindly,  neighbor 
hood  more  equal,  life  more  tranquil?  Where  is  the  senti 
ment  of  humanity  higher,  life  more  blest?  Where  else  can  you 
find  two  thousand  country  people,  with  the  refinements  of  the 
city — their  farms  unmortgaged,  their  speech  unblemished  with 
oaths,  their  breath  uncontaminated  with  alcohol,  their  poor- 
house  without  a  single  native  pauper  ? 

Daniel  Webster  once  said,  jocosely,  that  New  Hampshire  is  a 
good  place  to  come  from  :  it  seems  to  me,  in  all  sincerity,  that 
Ridgefield  is  a  good  place  to  go  to.  Should  I  ever  return  there 
to  end  my  days,  this  may  be  my  epitaph : 

My  faults  forgotten,  and  my  sins  forgiven, — 
Let  this,  my  tranquil  birthplace,  be  my  grave  : 

As  in  tny  youth  I  deem'd  it  nearest  heaven — 
So  here  I  give  to  God  the  breath  He  gave  ! 

Yours  ever,  S.  G.  G. 


LKTTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Here,  my  dear  C  . . . .,  endeth  the  first  lesson  of  my 
life — that  portion  of  it  which  pertaineth  to  Kidge- 
field.  Peradventure  this  has  been  drawn  out  in  such 
length  as  to  have  taxed  your  patience  beyond  endu 
rance.  If  such  be  the  truth,  I  beg  to  offer  as  pallia 
tion,  that  to  me  these  scenes,  incidents,  and  charac 
ters — simple  and  commonplace  though  they  be — seem 
not  unworthy  of  being  recorded,  for  the  very  reason 
that  they  are  thus  common,  and  therefore  are  repre 
sentatives  of  our  New  England  village  people  as  they 
were  a  brief  half  century  ago,  and  as  they  are  now. 
If  as  such,  they  present  a  spectacle  of  little  interest — 
I  beg  to  suggest  further,  that  the  picture  at  least 
affords  a  means  of  measuring  the  silent  but  steady 
advance  of  society  among  us ;  thus  refuting  the  cal 
umnies  of  the  misanthrope,  and  vindicating  the  hopes 
of  the  sincere  lover  of  mankind.  I  admit  that  the 
scale  upon  which  my  observations  are  made — that  of 
a  mere  country  village — is  small,  but  in  proportion 
to  its  minuteness,  is  the  certainty  of  the  conclusions 
we  may  draw.  A  survey  of  a  great  city  or  a  large 
space  of  country,  may  be  deceptive  from  its  extent 
and  the  complexity  of  its  details ;  but  in  respect  to 
such  a  community  as  that  I  have  described,  it  is  impos 
sible  to  be  mistaken.  The  progress  there  in  wealth, 
taste,  refinement,  morals — all  that  constitutes  civiliza 
tion — is  as  certain  as  the  advance  of  time.  Nor  is 
this  village  an  exception  to  the  tendency  of  things  in 
American  societv:  it  rnav  differ  in  the  celeritv  of  its 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  321 

progress,  but  in  its  general  experience  it  unquestion 
ably  sympathizes  with  New  England  at  large,  and  to 
some  extent  with  the  entire  United  States. 

And  one  thing  more  :  if  Ridgefield  is  thus  a  repre 
sentative  of  the  New  England  village,  I  may  remark 
that  here  the  comparison  ends :  at  least,  there  are  no 
such  villages  in  any  portion  of  the  Old  World:  none 
where  the  whole  people  are  thus  independent  in  their 
circumstances;  where  all  are  thus  educated,  so  far  as 
to  be  able  to  form  just  opinions  upon  the  great  ques 
tions  of  life,  in  religion,  government,  and  morals ; 
none  where  the  people,  conscious  of  their  power,  are 
thus  in  the  habit  of  forming  their  own  opinions  from 
their  own  reflections  ;  none  where  the  majority  are 
thus  living  on  their  own  lands  and  in  their  own  tene 
ments  ;  none  where  a  general  sentiment  of  equality 
and  good  neighborhood  thus  levels  the  distinctions  of 
wealth  and  condition  ;  none  where  religion  and  edu 
cation,  left  to  the  free  will  of  the  people,  thus  fur 
nish,  in  the  schoolhouses  and  the  churches,  the  chief 
visible  and  permanent  monuments  of  society. 

The  view  I  have  taken  suggests  also  another  idea, 
and  that  is  the  radical  difference  between  the  consti 
tution  of  things  in  our  country  and  all  others.  In 
all .  the  continent  of  Europe,  the  power,  genius,  intel 
ligence  of  each  country  is  centralized  in  the  capital 
It  is  and  has  been,  from  time  immemorial,  the  design 
of  kings  and  princes  of  all  dynasties,  to  make  the 
seat  of  the  government  the  focal  point  of  light — of 
14* 


322  LKTTKRS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

learning,  taste,  fashion,  wealth,  and  influence.  The 
Court  is  not  only  the  head  but  the  heart  of  the  body 
politic  :  the  country — the  people  at  large — the  limbs 
and  members  —  are  but  the  subservient  tools  and 
instruments  of  the  privileged  orders,  who  rule  not 
only  by  divine  right,  but  first  and  foremost  for  their 
own  benefit. 

In  our  system,  this  is  reversed.  Diffusion — an 
equal  distribution  of  power  and  privilege  to  every 
individual — is  the  law  in  government  and  society, 
here.  It  is  curious — it  is  animating  and  cheering 
to  see  the  eifect  of  this,  in  its  tendency  to  raise 
all  up  to  a  respectable  standard  of  intelligence  and 
refinement.  Compare  the  people  of  the  villages 
of  France,  Germany,  Spain,  Italy,  Russia,  or  Eng 
land  even,  with  those  of  Ridgefield,  or  any  other 
of  our  villages,  and  see  the  amazing  difference : 
the  first,  rude,  ignorant,  servile;  the  other,  intelli 
gent,  modest,  manly — accustomed  to  respect  others, 
but  extorting  respect  in  return.  Let  any  one  go 
into  the  houses  of  the  country  mechanics  and  la 
borers  of  Europe,  and  he  will  see  ignorance,  squalid- 
ness,  and  degradation,  which  admits  of  no  remedy 
and  offers  no  hope  of  improvement :  let  him  go  into 
the  houses  of  the  same  classes  in  the  places  to  which  I 
refer,  and  he  will  find  intelligence,  comfort,  and  a  con 
stant,  cheering,  stimulating  expectation  of  advance 
ment  in  their  circumstances.  And  let  it  be  remem 
bered  that  of  these,  and  such  as  these — the  toiling 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIOAL,  ETC.  323 

million — the  majority  of  all  nations  are  composed. 
Say  not,  then,  that  I  have  written  these  light  and 
hasty  sketches  in  vain  ! 


LETTER  XXI. 

f\rewell  to  Ridgefield — Farewell  to  Home — Danbvry — My  new  Vocation — 
A  Revolutionary  Patriarch — Life  in  a  Country  Store — Homesickness— 
My  Brother-in-law — Lawyer  Hatch. 

MY    DEAR    C****** 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1808,  as  I  have 
intimated,  that  a  sudden  change  took  place  in  my  pros 
pects.  My  eldest  sister  had  married  a  gentleman  by 
the  name  ofCooke,  in  the  adjacent  town  of  Danburv. 
He  was  a  merchant,  and  being  in  want  of  a  clerk, 
offered  me  the  place.  It  was  considered  a  desirable 
situation  by  my  parents,  and  overlooking  my  me 
chanical  aptitudes,  they  accepted  it  at  once,  and  at 
the  age  of  fifteen  I  found  myself  installed  in  a  coun 
try  store. 

This  arrangement  gratified  my  love  of  change,  com 
mon  to  the  young  and  inexperienced.  At  the  same 
time,  Danbury  was  a  much  more  considerable  town 
than  Ridgefield,  and  going  to  live  there  naturally 
suggested  the  idea  of  advancement,  especially  as  I 
was  to  exchange  my  uncertain  prospects  for  a  posi. 
tive  profession.  However,  I  little  comprehended 


324  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

what  it  meant  to  say  farewell  to  home:  I  have  since 
learned  its  significance.  In  thus  bidding  adieu  to 
the  paternal  roof,  we  part  with  youth  forever — words 
of  mournful  import,  which  every  succeeding  year,  to 
the  very  end,  impresses  on  the  heart.  We  part  with 
the  spring-tide  of  life,  which  strews  every  path  with 
flowers,  fills  the  air  with  poetry,  and  the  heart  with 
rejoicing.  We  part  with  that  genial  spirit  which 
endows  familiar  objects — brooks,  lawns,  play-grounds, 
hillsides — with  its  own  sweet  illusions  :  we  bid  adieu 
to  this  and  its  fairy  companionships.  Even  if,  in 
after  life,  we  return  to  the  scenes  of  our  childhood, 
they  have  lost  the  bloom  of  youth,  and  in  its  place 
we  see  the  wrinkles  of  that  age  which  has  graven  its 
hard  lines  upon  our  hearts. 

Farewell  to  home  implies  something  even  yet  more 
serious:  we  relinquish,  and  often  with  exultation, 
the  tender  providence  of  parents,  in  order  to  take  upon 
ourselves  the  dread  responsibilities  of  independence. 
What  seeming  infatuation  it  is,  that  renders  us  thus 
impatient  of  the  guidance  of  those  who  gave  us  being, 
and  who  are  on  earth  the  brightest  reflection  of  heav 
en — making  us  at  the  same  time  anxious  to  spread  our 
untried  sails  upon  an  untried  sea,  and  upon  a  voyage 
which  involves  all  the  chances — evil  as  well  as  good — 
of  existence.  And  yet  it  is  not  infatuation — it  is  in 
stinct.  We  can  not  always  be  young ;  we  can  not  all 
remain  under  the  paternal  roof.  The  old  birds  push 
the  young  ones  from  the  nest,  and  force  them  to  a 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,   ETC.  325 

trial  ol  their  wings.  It  is  the  system  of  nature  that 
impels  us  to  go  forth  and  try  our  fortunes,  and  it  is 
a  kind  Providence,  after  all,  which  thus  endues  us 
with  courage  for  the  outset  of  our  uncertain  career. 

I  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  my  new  voca 
tion  was  very  different  from  what  I  had  expected, 
and  very  different  from  my  accustomed  way  of  life. 
My  habits  had  been  active,  my  employments  chiefly 
abroad — in  the  open  air.  I  was  accustomed  to  be  fre 
quently  on  horseback,  and  to  make  excursions  to  the 
neighboring  towns  ;  I  had  also  enjoyed  large  person 
al  liberty,  which  I  failed  not  to  use  in  rambling  over 
the  fields  and  forests.  All  this  was  now  changed.  My 
duties  lay  exclusively  in  the  store,  and  this  seemed 
now  my  prison.  From  morning  to  night  I  remained 
here,  and  as  our  business  was  not  large,  I  had  many 
hours  upon  my  hands  with  nothing  to  do,  but  to  con 
sider  the  weariness  of  my  situation.  My  brother-in- 
law  was  always  present,  and  being  a  man  of  severe 
aspect  and  large  ubiquitous  eyes,  I  felt  a  sort  of  re 
straint,  which,  for  a  time,  was  agonizing.  I  had  con 
sequently  pretty  sharp  attacks  of  homesickness,  a 
disease  which — save  that  it  is  not  dangerous — is  one 
of  the  most  distressing  to  which  suffering  humanity 
is  exposed. 

This  state  of  sin  and  misery  continued  for  some 
weeks,  during  which  time  I  actually  revolved  various 
plans  of  escape  from  my  confinement — such  as  steal 
ing  away  at  night,  making  my  way  to  Norwalk,  get- 


326  LETTKR8 — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ting  on  board  a  sloop,  and  going  as  cabin-boy  to  the 
West  Indies.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  a  small 
impulse  might  have  set  me  upon  some  such  mad  ex 
pedition.  By  degrees,  however,  I  became  habitu 
ated  to  my  occupation,  and  as  my  situation  was  eli 
gible  in  other  respects,  I  found  myself,  ere  long, 
reconciled  to  it. 

The  father  and  mother  of  my  brother-in-law  were 
aged  people  living  with  him,  in  the  same  house,  and 
as  one  family.  They  were  persons  of  great  amiability 
and  excellence  of  character  :  the  former,  Col.  Cooke, 
was  eighty  years  of  age,  but  he  had  still  the  perfect 
exercise  of  his  faculties,  and  though  he  had  ceased 
all  business,  he  was  cheerful,  and  took  a  lively  inter 
est  in  passing  events.  His  career*  had  been  one  of 

*  Colonel  Joseph  Platt  Cooke,  son  of  Eev.  Samuel  Cooke,  of  Strattield, 
now  Bridgeport,  was  one  of  fourteen  children,  and  born  Dec.  24,  1729, 
(old  style):  Nov.  22,  1759,  he  was  married  to  Sarah  Benedict:  he  died 
Feb.  3,  1816.  Their  children  were  Joseph  P.  Cooke,  Thomas  Cooke, 
Elizabeth  Cooke,  Daniel  Benedict  Cooke,  and  Amos  Cooke — the  latter, 
my  brother-in-law,  born  Oct.  11, 1773,  and  deceased  Nov.  13, 1810.  Tho 
Rev.  Samuel  Cooke,  now  (1856)  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Church,  New 
York,  is  a  son  of  Daniel  B.  Cooke,  who  was  Judge  of  Probate  at  Dan- 
bury  for  a  number  of  years.  To  his  brother,  Joseph  P.  Cooke,  I  am  in 
debted  for  some  of  the  following  incidents. 

Col.  Joseph  P.  Cooke  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1750.  He  estab 
lished  himself  in  Danbury,  and  when  the  British,  under  Tryon,  having 
landed  at  Campo.  Point,  on  Long  Island  Sound,  April  25,  1777,  march 
ed  upon  that  place,  he  was  colonel  of  the  militia  there.  Having  advice 
of  the  advance  of  the  enemy,  he  sent  a  messenger  to  Gen.  Silliman, 
giving  the  information  he  had  acquired,  and  asking  for  troops,  ammu 
nition,  and  instructions.  This  messenger,  coming  suddenly  upon  the 
invading  army,  was  fired  upon,  wounded,  and  taken  prisoner. 

General  Silliman,  who  was  attached  to  the  Connecticut  militia,  was 
upon  his  farm  at  Fairfield,  when  he  heard  of  the  British  expedition. 
Ho  immediately  dispatched  messenffers  to  nrouse  the  people,  and  set 


HISTORICAL,    ANKCIxmCAL,    ETC.  327 

great  activity  and  usefulness.  During  the  Revolution 
he  was  a  colonel  of  the  Connecticut  militia,  and  upon 
the  death  of  Gen.  Wooster,  in  the  retreat  from  Dan- 
bury,  the  command  devolved  upon  him,  the  next  in 
rank.  He  was  greatly  esteemed,  not  only  by  the  com 
munity,  but  by  the  leading  men  of  the  country.  He 
enjoyed  the  friendship  and  confidence  of  Washing 
ton,  and  the  acquaintance  of  Lafayette,  Rochambeau, 
and  De  Grasse,  whom  he  entertained  at  his  house.  He 


out  himself  for  Eeading.  Here  he  was  joined  by  the  fiery  Arnold  and 
the  experienced  Wooster  :  altogether  they  had  about  seven  hundred 
men — mostly  raw  militia,  fresh  from  their  farms. 

So  rapid  was  the  march  of  the  British,  that  the  people  of  Danbury 
were  not  informed  of  their  danger,  till  the  enemy  were  within  eight 
Tniles  of  the  town.  Knowing  that  the  public  stores  were  their  object, 
and  well  advised  of  the  terrors  of  a  British  marauding  army,  the  whole 
place  was  a  scene  of  the  wildest  confusion  and  alarm.  Those  who  could 
fly,  sought  safety  in  the  woods  and  adjacent  villages,  taking  their  wo 
men  and  children  with  them.  The  sick  and  decrepit  remained,  with 
u  few  persons  to  take  care  of  them. 

There  were  no  means  of  defense  in  the  place:  about  a  hundred  and 
fifty  militia,  without  ammunition,  under  Colonels  Cooke  and  Hunting- 
ton,  were  there,  but  retired  upon  the  approach  of  the  enemy.  Having 
marched  through  Weston  and  Reading,  Tryon  and  his  force  of  two 
thousand  men,  reached  Danbury  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  subsequent 
to  their  landing.  Insult  to  the  people  and  conflagration  of  the  buiMinirs, 
public  and  private,  followed.  The  only  houses  intentionally  spared  by 
the  enemy  were  those  of  the  tories ;  some  other  dwellings,  however, 
escaped.  Nineteen  houses,  one  meeting-house,  and  twenty  stores  and 
barns,  with  their  contents,  were  destroyed. 

The  scenes  enacted  in  this  tragedy  were  in  the  highest  degree  appall 
ing.  Among  the  articles  consumed  were  three  thousand  barrels  of  pork. 
The  fat  of  these  ran  in  rivers  of  flame  in  the  gutters,  while  the  soldiers,- 
intoxicated  with  liquors  they  had  procured,  yelled  like  demons  amid 
the  conflagration,  or  reeled  through  the  streets,  or  lay  down,  like  swine, 
in  by-places.  It  adds  horror  to  the  scene  to  know  that  a  portion  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  town  opened  their  arms  to  the  enemy,  and  saw  with 
rejoicing  the  ruin  and  vengeance  wrought  upon  their  friends  and  neigh 
bors. 


328  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

was  a  member  of  Congress  under  the  Confederation, 
and  subsequently  filled  the  various  offices  of  judge  of 
the  County  Court,  judge  of  Probate,  and  member  of 
the  Governor's  council — receiving  for  many  years  a 
larger  popular  vote  than  any  other  individual  of  that 
body.  His  style  of  living  was  liberal,  and  with  a 
large  family,  settled  in  the  neighborhood,  he  was  like 
one  of  the  patriarchs  of  old — dignified,  tranquil — 
loving  and  beloved.  In  manner  and  dress,  he  was 


Early  on  the  morning  of  the  next  day  (Sunday,  April  27),  while  the 
whole  country  around  was  lighted  with  the  flames  of  Danbury,  Tryon, 
hearing  that  the  militia  were  gathering  from  all  quarters  to  attack  him, 
began  a  rapid  retreat,  taking  the  route  through  Ridgebury  and  Ridge- 
field. 

Gen.  Wooster,  who  had  been  joined  by  Col.  Cooke  and  his  men,  cross 
ing  from  Reading,  overtook  the  enemy  about  two  miles  north  of  Ridge- 
fleld-strect.  One  of  his  aids  was  Stephen  Rowe  Bradley,  afterward, 
for  sixteen  years,  a  senator  of  the  United  States  from  Vermont.  A  smart 
skirmish  ensued,  and  forty  British  prisoners  were  taken.  Unfortunate 
ly,  at  this  critical  moment,  Wooster  fell,  fatally  wounded  by  a  bullet-shot 
in  the  groin.  This  caused  a  temporary  panic,  during  which  the  enemy 
pushed  on  toward  Ridgefield.  Here,  however,  at  the  head  of  the  street, 
they  were  met  by  the  impetuous  Arnold,  who,  with  only  two  hundred 
men  behind  a  stone  wall,  boldly  confronted  them.  After  a  time,  they 
were  driven  back,  and  the  British  made  their  way  to  their  point  of  em- 
barkment.  The  untimely  fall  of  Wooster  probably  only  saved  them 
from  surrender,  or  ignominious  loss  and  defeat. 

Among  the  stores  burned  in  Danbury  was  that  of  Col.  Cooke — with 
a  loss  of  one  thousand  pounds.  The  British  soldiers  occupied  his  house, 
where  they  had  a  riotous  time.  An  old  negro  slave,  who  was  left  be 
hind,  waited  upon  them,  and  contrived  to  prevent  a  good  deal  of  dam 
age.  When  the  marauders  heard  that  the  Americans  were  coming 
they  took  some  bundles  of  straw,  set  the  house  on  fire,  and  fled.  The 
old  negro  put  out  the  flames,  and  thus  saved  his  master's  dwelling.  For 
this  he  had  his  freedom,  and  ever  after  was  supported  and  cherished, 
with  the  consideration  due  to  his  conduct. 

The  following  original  letter — placed  at  my  disposal  by  Mrs.  Stites, 
granddaughter  of  Colonel  Cooke — not  only  throws  some  pleasing  light 
upon  his  character,  but  it  presents  facts  of  the  deepest  and  most  tragic 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOT1CAL,  ETC.  329 

strongly  marked  with  the  "Washingtonian  era  :  he  was 
sedate,  courteous,  methodical  in  all  his  ways :  he 
wore  breeches,  knee-buckles,  shoe-buckles,  and  a 
cocked  hat,  to  the  last.  The  amenity  and  serenity 
of  his  countenance  and  conduct,  bespoke  the  refined 
gentleman  and  disciplined  Christian.  His  wife  was 
a  sister  of  the  Kev.  Noah  Benedict,  of  "Woodbury, 
and  inherited  the  traditionary  talent  of  that  branch 
of  the  Benedict  family.  Never  have  I  seen  a  more 


interest.    It  was  written  while  he  was  at  New  York  attending  to  his 
duties  there  as  a  member  of  Congress. 

[Letter  from  Colonel  Oooke  to  his  son  Amos  Cooke,~\ 

NEW  YORK,  June  3,  1785. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   SON  : 

Your  letter  of  the  30th  ultimo  car«5  safe  to  hand,  but  I  had  not  time 
to  return  you  an  answer  by  the  same  post,  and  this  may  often  happen 
by  reason  of  my  quarters  being  on  Long  Island.  I  am  very  glad  to 
hear  that  your  mamma  enjoys  a  tolerable  state  of  health,  and  I  doubt  not 
but  that  you  will  always  be  very  attentive  to  her  comfort.  Should  she 
in  any  good  measure  recover  her  strength,  1  fear  she  will  undertake 
sotiie  business  which  may  be  detrimental  to  her  health.  Whenever  you 
observe  any  thing  of  that  kind,  I  would  have  you  suggest  the  thought 
to  her,  in  a  very  dutiful  manner,  telling  her  that  you  do  it  at  my  de 
sire.  Platt  did  very  well  in  taking  the  method  you  mentioned  for 
getting  Daniel  to  New  Haven.  I  hope  the  Society  will  adopt  nome  plan 
for  going  forward  with  building  the  meeting-house,  for  until  they  do,  I 
wisli  not  to  see  the  Courts  held  in  Danbury.  I  am  not,  however,  appre 
hensive  that  the  Assembly  will  repeal  the  act. 

There  are  now  six  members  of  Congress,  who  board  at  Mr.  Hunt's. 
Our  accommodations  are  very  good,  and  we  have  no  rats  to  annoy  us. 
We  have  been  honored  with  a  visit  from  the  President  and  most  of 
the  members  of  Congress,  who  all  admire  our  situation,  which  com 
mands  a  prospect  of  the  whole  city,  of  all  the  shipping  in  the  harbor 
and  on  the  stocks  (of  which  there  are  a  very  considerable  number,  one 
of  which  being  a  ship  of  about  three  hundred  tons,  we  saw  launched 
yesterday),  and  of  every  vessel  that  either  goes  out  or  comes  in,  of 
which  we  s£e  forty  or  fifty  under  sail  at  the  same  time.  But  amidst  all 
these  pleasing  scenes  there  is  something  that  damps  our  spirits,  and 


330  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

pleasing  spectacle  than  this  reverend  couple — at  the 
age  of  fourscore — both  smoking  their  pipes  in  the 
evening,  with  two  generations  around  them,  all  look 
ing  with  affectionate  veneration  upon  the  patriarchal 
pair. 

My  brother-in-law  was  a  man  of  decided  character, 
and  his  portrait  deserves  a  place  in  these  annals.  He 
was  graduated  at  Yale  College,  and  had  been  qualified 
for  the  bar,  but  his  health  was  feeble,  and  therefore 
— chiefly  for  occupation — he  succeeded  to  the  store 


casts  a  gloom  over  the  whole.  At  about  half  a  mile's  distance  from  our 
lodgings,  lies  the  wreck  of  a  ship  which  was  the  Jersey  Prison  Ship, 
from  which  so  many  thousands  of  our  poor  countrymen,  who  had  the 
misfortune  during  the  late  war  to  be  taken  prisoners,  were  thrown.  I 
wish  I  could  say  buried,  for  then  some  part  of  the  British  inhumanity 
would  have  been  concealed,  but  that  was  not  the  case.  The  banks  near 
which  this  Prison  ship  lay  are  high  and  sandy.  The  dead  bodies  of  our 
friends,  only  wrapped  up  in  old  blankets,  were  laid  at  the  bottom  of  the 
bank,  and  the  sand  drawn  over  them.  Soon  after  we  came  to  live  upon 
Long  Island,  several  of  us  took  a  walk  that  way,  and  were  struck  with 
horror  at  beholding  a  large  number  of  human  bones,  some  fragments  of 
flesh  not  quite  consumed, with  many  pieces  of  old  blankets  lying  upon  the 
shore.  In  consequence  of  a  representation  made  to  Congress,  they  were 
soon  after  taken  up  and  buried.  But  walking  along  the  same  place  not 
many  days  ago,  we  saw  a  number  more  which  were  washed  out,  and  at 
tempting  to  bury  them  ourselves,  we  found  the  bank  full  of  them. 
Such  conduct  hasfixed.a  stain  upon  the  British  character  which  will  not 
soon  be  wiped  off. 

The  weather  has  been  so  very  tempestuous  this  day,  that  none  of  us 
have  attempted  to  cross  the  ferry,  which  is  the  first  time  we  have  failed 
since  we  have  been  here. 

It  gives  me  pleasure  to  observe  by  your  last  letter  that  you  improve 
both  in  writing  and  composing  ;  and  I  hope  you  will  give  frequent  in 
stances  of  improvement  in  the  same  way. 

Give  my  kind  love  to  your  mamma  and  all  the  family,  and  tell  Platt 
]  intend  to  write  him  by  the  next  post.  These  from  your  affectionate 
parent,  JOSEPH  P.  COOKE. 

Master  AMOS  COOKE. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  331 

which  his  father  had  kept  before  him.  Being  in  easy 
circumstances,  he  made  no  great  efforts  in  business. 
Though,  as  I  have  said,  he  was  of  stern  aspect,  and 
his  manners  were  somewhat  cold  and  distant,  he  was 
always  a  gentleman,  and  his  substantial  character  that 
of  a  just  and  kind  man.  In  business,  he  treated  peo 
ple  respectfully,  but  he  never  solicited  custom :  he 
showed,  but  never  recommended  his  goods.  If  his 
advice  were  asked,  he  offered  it  without  regard  to  his 
own  interest.  He  gave  me  no  instructions,  but  left 
me  to  the  influence  of  his  example.  .  He  was  of  a 
highly  religious  turn  of  mind,  not  merely  performing 
the  accustomed  duties  of  a  Christian,  but  making  de 
votional  books  a  large  part  of  his  study.  Perhaps 
he  was  conscious  of  failing  health,  and  already  heard 
the  monitory  voice  of  that  disease  which  was  ere  long 
to  terminate  his  career. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  not  insensible  to  the  pleasures 
of  cultivated  society,  and  however  grave  he  might 
be  in  his  general  air  and  manner,  he  was  particularly 
gratified  with  the  visits  of  a  man,  in  all  things  his 
opposite  —  Moses  Hatch,  then  a  leading  lawyer  in 
Danbury.  Mr.  Cooke  was  tall,  emaciated,  somewhat 
bent,  with  a  large  head,  and  large  melancholy  eyes. 
His  look  was  gravity  itself,  his  air  meditative,  his 
movements  measured,  slow,  and  wavering.  'Squire 
Hatch,*  on  the  contrary,  was  rather  short,  full-chested, 

*  Moses  Hatch  was  born  at  Kent,  Litehfield  county,  Conn.,  \.  D.  1780, 
and  died  at  the  same  place  in  1820,  on  his  return  from  Saratoga,  whcra 


332  LETTEKS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

perpendicular,  and  with  a  short,  quick,  emphatic  step. 
His  eye  was  small,  gray,  and  twinkling;  his  lips  sharp 
and  close-set,  his  hair  erect  and  combed  back,  giving 
to  his  face  the  keen  expression  of  the  old-fashioned 
flint,  set  in  a  gun-lock.  You  expected,  of  course,  on 
the  least  movement  to  see  the  fire  fly;  he  was,  in 
fact,  a  man  celebrated  for  his  wit  no  less  than  his 
learning,  and  he  seldom  opened  his  mouth  without 
making  a  report  of  one  or  both. 

This  person  was  a  frequent  visitor  to  the  store,  and 
the  long  winter  which  commenced  soon  after  I  en 
tered  upon  my  apprenticeship,  was  not  a  little  enli 
vened  by  his  conversations  with  my  master.  It  fre 
quently  happened  during  the  deep  snows,  that  the 
day  passed  without  a  single  customer,  and  on  these 
occasions,  Lawyer  Hatch  was  pretty  sure  to  make  us 
a  visit.  It  was  curious  to  see  these  two  men — an 
tipodes  in  character — attracted  to  each  other  as  if  by 
contradiction.  My  brother-in-law  evidently  found  a 
pleasant  relaxation  in  the  conversation  of  his  neigh 
bor,  embellished  with  elegant  wit  and  varied  learn 
ing,  while  the  latter  derived  equal  gratification  from 
the  serious,  solid,  manly  intellect  of  his  friend.  In 

he  had  been  for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  He  graduated  at  Yale  in 
1800,  with  high  honors,  delivering  a  poem  on  the  occasion.  As  a 
lawyer,  he  always  thought  the  cause  of  his  client  just,  and  with  that 
feeling,  he  generally  succeeded  in  cases  before  a  jury.  He  seems  to 
have  had  a  sort  of  somnambulic  habit,  and  when  an  interesting  case 
was  on  his  mind,  or  he  was  preparing  for  it,  he  would  po  through  with 
his  argument  in  his  sleep,  addressing  the  court  and  jury,  with  inucli 
the  same  method  he  usually  adopted  in  the  actual  trial. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  333 

general  -\e  former  was  the  talker,  and  the  latter  the 
listener  ,  yet  sometimes  the  conversation  became  dis 
cussion,  and  a  keen  trial  of  wit,  versus  logic,  ensued. 
The  lawyer  always  contended  for  victory,  my  brother- 
in-law  for  the  truth  :  the  one  was  influenced,  no  doubt, 
by  the  easy  practices  of  his  profession  ;  the  other  by 
the  stern  habit  of  his  conscience  and  character. 

The  precise  form  of  these  conversations  has  van 
ished  from  my  mind,  but  some  of  the  topics  remain. 
I  recollect  long  talks  about  the  embargo,  non-inter 
course,  and  other  Jeffersonian  measures,  which  were 
treated  with  unsparing  ridicule  and  reproach :  anec 
dotes  and  incidents  of  Napoleon,  who  excited  mingled 
admiration  and  terror,  with  observations  upon  public 
men,  as  well  in  Europe  as  in  America.  I  remember 
also  a  very  keen  discussion  upon  Berkeley's  theory  of 
the  idealty  of  nature,  mental  and  material,  which  so 
far  excited  my  curiosity,  that  finding  the  "  Minute 
Philosopher,"  by  that  author,  in  the  family  library, 
I  read  it  through  with  great  interest  and  attention. 
The  frequent  references  to  Shakspeare,  in  these  con 
versations,  led  me  to  look  into  his  works,  and — incited 
by  the  recommendations  of  my  sister — I  read  them 
through,  somewhat  doggedly,  seeking  even  to  pene 
trate  the  more  difficult  and  obscure  passages. 

It  frequently  happened  that  my  master — owing  to 
tue  influence  of  disease — was  affected  with  depres 
sion  of  spirits,  and  the  lawyer's  best  wit  and  choicest 
stories  were  expended  without  even  exciting  a  smile. 


334  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Not  discouraged,  but  rather  stimulated  by  such  ad 
versity,  he  usually  went  on,  and  was  pretty  sure,  at 
last,  to  strike  the  vein,  as  Moses  did  the  water  in 
the  rock,  and  a  gush  of  uncontrollable  laughter  was 
the  result.  I  remember  in  one  instance,  Mr.  Cooke 
sat  for  a  long  time,  looking  moodily  into  the  fire, 
while  'Squire  Hatch  went  on  telling  stories,  chiefly 
about  clergymen,  of  which  he  had  a  great  assortment. 
I  will  endeavor  to  give  you  a  sketch  of  the  scene. 

"  I  know  not  why  it  is  so,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  but 
the  fact  is  undeniable,  that  the  most  amusing  anec 
dotes  are  about  clergymen.  The  reason  perhaps  is, 
that  incongruity  is  the  source  of  humorous  associa 
tions,  and  this  is  evidently  the  most  frequent  and 
striking  in  a  profession  which  sets  apart  its  members 
as  above  the  mass  of  mankind,  in  a  certain  gravity 
of  character  and  demeanor,  of  which  the  black  coat 
is  the  emblem.  A  spot  upon  this  strikes  every  eye, 
while  a  brown  coat,  being  the  color  of  dirt,  hides 
rather  than  reveals  what  is  upon  its  surface.  Thus 
it  is,  as  we  all  know,  that  what  would  be  insipid  as 
coming  from  a  layman,  is  very  laughable  if  it  hap 
pens  to  a  parson.  I  have  heard  that  on  a  certain 

occasion,  as  the  Eev.  J . . .  M was  about  to  read 

a  hymn,  he  saw  a  little  boy  sitting  behind  the  chor 
ister  in  the  gallery,  who  had  intensely  red  hair.  The 
day  was  cold,  and  the  little  rogue  was  pretending  to 
warm  his  hands  by  holding  them  close  to  the  chor 
ister's  head.  This  so  disconcerted  the  minister,  that 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOT1CAL,  ETC.  335 

it  was  some  minutes  before  he  could  go  on  with  the 
services. 

The  only  effect  of  this  was,  that  my  master  drew 
down  one  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"I  have  heard  of  another  clergyman,"  said  the 
lawyer,  "  who  suffered  in  a  similar  way.  One  day, 
in  the  very  midst  of  his  sermon,  he  saw  Deacon 
B  . . . .  fast  asleep,  his  head  leaning  back  on  the  rail 
of  the  pew,  and  his  mouth  wide  open.  A  young 
fellow  in  the  gallery  above,  directly  over  him,  took 
a  quid  of  tobacco  from  his  mouth,  and  taking  a  care 
ful  aim,  let  it  drop  plump  into  the  deacon's  mouth. 
The  latter  started  from  his  sleep,  and  went  through 
a  terrible  paroxysm  of  fright  and  choking  before  he 
recovered." 

Mr.  Cooke  bit  his  lip,  but  was  silent.  Lawyer 
Hatch — although  he  pretended  to  be  all  the  while 
looking  into  the  fire — got  a  quick  side  glance  at  the 
face  of  his  auditor,  and  continued — 

"  You  know  the  Kev.  Dr.  B of  B.,  sir  ?  Well, 

one  day  he  told  me  that  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  New 
Haven,  he  came  to  the  house  of  one  of  his  former  pa 
rishioners,  who,  some  years  before,  had  removed  to 
that  place.  As  he  was  about  to  pass  it,  he  remem 
bered  that  this  person  had  died  recently,  and  he 
thought  it  meet  and  proper  to  stop  and  condole  with 
the  widow.  She  met  him  very  cheerfully,  and  they 
had  some  pleasant  chat  together. 

" '  Madam,'  said  he,  after  a  time,  '  it  is  a  painfuJ 


336  LETTERS BIOOKA.P1IICAL, 

subject — but  you  have  recently  met  with  a  severe 
loss.' 

"  She  instantly  applied  her  apron  to  her  eyes,  and 
said — 

"  '  Oh  yes,  doctor  ;  there's  no  telling  how  I  feel.' 
"  '  It  is  indeed  a  great  bereavement  you  have  suf 
fered.' 

"  'Yes,  doctor;  very  great  indeed.' 
"  '  I  hope  you  bear  it  with  submission  ?' 
"  '  I  try  tu  ;   but  oh,  doctor,  I  sometimes  feel  in 
my  heart  —  Goosy,    goosy   gander,  where    shall   I 
wander !'  " 

The  lawyer  glanced  at  the  object  of  his  attack,  and 
seeming  to  see  a  small  breach  in  the  wall,  he  thought 
it  time  to  bring  up  his  heavy  guns.  He  went  on  : 

"  There's  another  story  about  this  same  Dr.  B  . . .  . 
which  is  amusing.  Some  years  ago  he  lost  his  wife, 
and  after  a  time  he  began  to  look  out  for  another. 
At  last  he  fixed  his  mind  upon  a  respectable  lady  in 
a  neighboring  town,  and  commenced  paying  her  his 
addresses.  This  naturally  absorbed  much  of  his  time 
and  attention,  and  his  parish  became  dissatisfied. 
The  deacons  of  the  church  held  several  conferences 
on  the  subject,  and  it  was  finally  agreed  that  Deacon 
Becket,  who  had  the  grace  of  smooth  speech,  should 
give  the  reverend  doctor  a  hint  of  what  they  deemed 
his  fearful  backsliding.  Accordingly,  the  next  Sab 
bath  morning,  on  going  to  church,  the  deacon  over 
took  the  parson,  and  the  following  dialogue  ensued : 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  337 

"  '  Good  morning,  Dr.  B ' 

"  '  Good  morning,'  Deacon  Becket. 

"  '  Well,  doctor,  I'm  glad  to  meet  you ;  for  I  want 
ed  to  say  to  you,  as  how  I  thought  of  changing  my 
pew!' 

"  '  Indeed !     And  why  so  ?' 

" '  "Well,  I'll  tell  you.  I  sit,  as  you  know,  clear 
over  the  back-side  of  the  meeting-house;  and  be 
tween  me  and  the  pulpit,  there's  Judy  Vickar,  Molly 
Warren,  Experience  Pettybone,  and  half-a-dozen  old 
maids,  who  sit  with  their  mouths  wide  open,  and  they 
catch  all  the  best  of  your  sarmon,  and  when  it  gets  to 
me,  it's  plaguey  poor  stuff!'" 

My  brother-in-law  could  hold  out  no  longer :  his 
face  was  agitated  for  a  moment  with  nervous  spasms, 
and  then  bending  forward,  he  burst  into  a  round, 
hearty  laugh.  The  lawyer — who  made  it  a  point  never 
to  smile  at  his  own  jokes — still  had  a  look  upon  his 
face  as  much  as  to  say — "  Well,  sir,  I  thought  I 
should  get  my  case." 

It  may  be  easily  imagined  that  I  was  greatly  inter 
ested  by  these  conversations  and  discussions,  and  al 
ways  felt  not  a  little  annoyed,  if  perchance,  as  some 
times  happened,  I  was  called  away  in  the  midst  of  a 
good  story  or  a  keen  debate,  to  supply  a  customer 
with  a  gallon  of  molasses,  or  a  paper  of  pins.  I  know 
not  if  this  gave  me  a  disgust  of  my  trade,  but  it  is 
very  certain  that  I  conceived  for  it  a  great  dislike, 
nearly  from  the  beginning.  Never,  so  far  as  I  can 

VOL.  I.— 15 


338  LETTERS BIOGKAPHICAL, 

recollect,  did  I  for  one  moment  enter  heartily  into 
its  spirit.  I  was  always,  while  I  continued  in  it,  ji 
mere  servile  laborer,  doing  my  duty,  perhaps,  yet 
with  a  languid  and  reluctant  heart.  However,  I  got 
through  the  winter,  and  when  the  summer  came,  Mr. 
Cooke  nearly  gave  up  personal  attention  to  busi 
ness,  in  consequence  of  ill  health,  and  we  had  a  new 
clerk,  H.  N.  Lockwood,  who  was  older  than  myself,  and 
took  the  responsible  charge  of  the  establishment.  He 
was  an  excellent  merchant,  and  to  me  was  a  kind  and 
indulgent  friend.  He  afterward  settled  in  Troy,  where 
I  am  happy  to  say  he  is  still  living,  and  in  the  en 
joyment  of  an  ample  fortune,  and  an  excellent  repu 
tation  as  a  father,  friend,  Christian,  and  neighbor — 
the  natural  fruit  of  good  sense,  good  temper,  and 
good  conduct. 


LETTER   XXII. 

Visit  to  New  Haven — The  City — Yale  College — My  Uncles  Home — John 
Allen — First  view  of  the  Ocean — The  Court-bouse — Dr.  Dwight — Pro 
fessor  SUKman — Ghemifttry,  Mineralogy,  Geology — Anecdote  of  Onions 
Gibbs—Mi  Whitney— The  Cotton-gin—  The  Gun-factory. 

MY  DEAR  C  ****** 

In  the  summer  of  1809  I  took  a  short  tour  with 
my  brother-in-law  and  my  sister,  for  the  health  oi 
the  former.  This  to  me  was  a  grand  expedition,  for 
among  other  places  we  visited  was  New  Haven,  then 
a  sort  of  Jerusalem  in  my  imagination — a  holy  place, 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,   ETC.  339 

containing  Yale  College,  of  which  Dr.  Dwight  was 
president.  Besides  all  this,  one  of  my  uncles  and 
some  of  my  cousins  lived  there,  and  better  still,  my 
brother  was  there,  and  then  a  member  of  the  college. 
Ah,  how  my  heart  beat  when  we  set  out !  Such 
was  the  vividness  of  my  perceptions,  that  I  could  fill 
a  book  with  recollections  of  that  short,  simple  journey 
— the  whole  circuit  not  exceeding  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles.  But,  my  dear  C  .  . . .,  be  not  alarmed !  I 
shall  not  inflict  them  upon  you  :  a  few  brief  notes  will 
be  the  entire  burden  you  shall  bear,  on  this  occasion. 
I  pass  over  the  journey  to  New  Haven,  and  permit 
you  at  once  to  enter  the  city.  I  was  of  course  duly 
impressed  with  its  beauty,  for  then,  as  now,  it  was 
celebrated  for  a  rare  union  of  rural  freshness  and 
city  elegance.  I  have  recently,  in  passing  through 
it,  had  a -transient  view  of  its  appearance,  and  may 
safely  affirm  that  after  pretty  large  observation  in 
the  Old  World,  as  well  as  in  the  New,  I  know  of  no 
town  or  city  more  inviting ;  especially  to  one  whose 
j  udgment  is  cultivated  by  observation  and  study,  and 
whose  feelings  are  chastened  by  reflection  and  expe 
rience.  There  is  a  taste  of  the  university  in  the  long 
shady  streets,  fit  for  the  walks  of  Plato,  and  a  metro 
politan  air  in  the  public  buildings  and  squares,  sug 
gestive  of  ideas  of  the  Forum.  There  is  something  of 
the  activity  and  bustle  of  commerce  in  a  part  of  the 
town,  and  at  one  point,  all  the  spasm  of  a  railway 
station.  In  other  portions  of  the  place,  and  over 


340  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

three- fourths  of  its  area,  there  is  the  quietude  and 
repose  proper  to  a  seat  of  learning.  Here  the  houses 
seem  suited  to  the  city,  each  with  a  garden,  breathing 
the  perfumes  of  the  country. 

At  the  period  of  the  visit  I  am  describing,  New 
Haven  had  not  one  half  its  present  population,  and 
many  of  the  institutions  which  now  adorn  it  did  not 
exist.  The  college,  however,  was  then,  as  now,  a 
leading  literary  institution  in  the  country.  To  me 
it  was  an  object  of  special  reverence,  as  my  grand 
father  and  his  five  sons  had  all  been  graduated  there. 
My  brother  and  two  of  my  cousins  were  at  this  time 
among  its  inmates.  Of  course  I  looked  with  intense 
curiosity  at  the  several  buildings  that  belonged  to  it. 
The  splendid  mineralogical  cabinet,  now  the  first  in 
the  United  States,  was  not  there ;  nay,  the  science  ol 
mineralogy  hardly  existed  at  that  time.  The  Trumbull 
Gallery  of  Paintings,  comprising  many  of  the  best 
productions  of  that  distinguished  painter,  and  en 
riched  by  nearly  two  hundred  portraits  of  celebrated 
men,  has  since  been  added.  Nevertheless,  many 
things  here  excited  my  admiration.  I  looked  with 
particular  interest — I  may  add  with  some  degree  of 
envy — at  the  students,  who  seemed  to  me  the  privi 
leged  sons  of  the  earth.  Several  were  pointed  out 
as  promising  to  be  the  master-spirits  of  their  age  and 
generation  ;  in  some  cases  I  have  since  seen  these  an 
ticipations  fulfilled. 

Next  to  the  college  I  visited  the  bay,  and  for  the 


HISTORICAL     ANEODOTICAL,   ETC.  341 

first  time  actually  sto.od  upon  the  shore  of  that  liv 
ing  sea,  which  through  my  whole  childhood  had 
spread  its  blue  bosom  before  me,  in  the  distant  ho 
rizon.  A  party  of  three  or  four  of  us  took  a  boat,  and 
went  down  toward  the  entrance  of  the  bay,  landing 
on  the  eastern  side.  From  this  point  the  view  was 
enchanting — it  being  a  soft  summer  afternoon,  and 
the  sea  only  breathed  upon  by  light  puffs  of  wind 
that  came  from  the  west.  I  looked  long,  and  with  a 
species  of  enhancement,  at  its  heaving  and  swelling 
surface :  I  ran  my  eye  far  away,  till  it  met  the  line 
where  sky  and  wave  are  blent  together :  I  followed 
the  lulling  surf  as  it  broke,  curling  and  winding, 
among  the  mimic  bays  of  the  rocky  shore.  I  looked 
down  into  the  depths  of  the  water,  and  perceived  the 
finny  inhabitants,  gliding  through  the  dim  recesses, 
half  sheltered  in  their  tranquil  domain  by  groves  of 
sea- weed,  or  the  shadows  of  the  deepening  waters. 
It  was  a  spectacle  not  only  full  of  beauty  in  itself, 
but  to  me  it  was  a  revelation  and  a  fulfillment  of  the 
thousand  half-formed  fancies,  which  had  been  strug 
gling  in  my  longing  bosom  from  very  childhood. 

Our  party  was  so  occupied  with  our  contempla 
tions,  that  we  had  scarcely  noticed  a  thunder-storm, 
which  now  approached  and  menaced  us  from  the 
west.  We  set  out  to  return,  but  before  we  had  got 
half  across  the  bay,  it  broke  full  upon  us.  The 
change  in  the  aspect  of  the  sea  was  fearful :  all  its 
gentleness  was  gone,  and  now,  black  and  scowling, 


342  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

it  seemed,  as  if  agitated  by  a  demon,  threatening 
every  thing  with  destruction  that  came  within  its 
scope.  By  a  severe  struggle,  we  succeeded  in  reach 
ing  Long  Wharf,  though  not  without  risk.  The  gen 
eral  impression  of  the  whole  scene  upon  my  mind, 
may  be  gathered  from  the  following  lines,  though 
you  must  not  consider  me  as  the  literal  hero  of  the 
story,  nor  must  you  regard  this  description  as  a  ver 
itable  account  of  the  day's  adventure  : 

I  stood 

Upon  a  rock  that  wall'd  the  Deep  : 
Before  me  roll'd  the  boundless  flood — 

A  Glorious  Dreamer  in  its  sleep ! 
'Twas  summer  morn,  and  bright  as  heaven ; 

And  though  I  wept,  I  was  not  sad, 
For  tears,  thou  knowest,  are  often  given 

When  the  o'erflowing  heart  is  glad. 
Long,  long  I  watch'd  the  waves,  whose  whirls* 

Leap'd  up  the  rocks,  their  brows  to  kiss, 
And  dallied  with  the  sea-weed  curls 

That  stoop'd  and  wooed  the  protfer'd  bliss. 
Long,  long  I  listen'd  to  the  peal 

That  whisper'd  from  the  pebbly  shore, 
And  like  a  spirit  seem'd  to  steal 

In  music  to  my  bosonrs  core. 
And  now  I  look'd  afar,  and  thought 

The  Sea  a  glad  and  glorious  thing ; 
And  fancy  to  my  bosom  brought 

Wild  dreams  upon  her  wizard  wing — 
Her  wing  that  stretch'd  o'er  spreading  waves, 

And  chased  the  far-off  flashing  ray, 
Or  hovering  deep  in  twilight  caves 

Caught  the  lone  mermaid  at  her  play. 


FIKST  ADVENTURE  UPON  THE  SEA.     Vol.  1,  p.  342. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIOAL,  ETC.  343 

And  thus  the  sunny  day  went  by, 

And  night  came  brooding  o'er  the  seas ; 
A  thick  cloud  swathed  the  distant  sky, 

And  hollow  murmurs  fill'd  the  breeze. 
The  white-gull,  screaming,  left  the  rock, 

And  seaward  bent  her  glancing  wing, 
While  heavy  waves,  with  measured  shock, 

Made  the  dun  cliff  with  echoes  ring. 
How  changed  the  scene !     The  glassy  deep, 

That  si  umber  d  in  its  resting-place, 
And,  seeming  in  its  morning  sleep 

To  woo  me  to  its  soft  embrace — 
N"ow  waken'd,  was  a  fearful  thing — 

A  giant  with  a  scowling  form, 
Who  from  his  bosom  seem'd  to  fling 

The  blacken'd  billows  to  the  storm  ! 
The  wailing  winds  in  terror  gush'd 

From  the  swart  sky,  and  seem'd  to  lash 
The  foaming  waves,  which  madly  rush'd 

Toward  the  tall  cliff  with  headlong  dash. 
Upward  the  glittering  spray  was  sent, 

Backward  the  growling  surges  whirl'd, 
And  splintered  rocks  by  lightnings  rent, 

Down  thundering  midst  the  waves  were  hurl'd. 
I  trembled,  yet  I  would  not  fly  ; 

1  fear'tl,  yet  loved,  the  awful  scene  ; 
And  gazing  on  the  sea  and  sky, 

Spell-bound  I  stood  the  rocks  between. 

'T\vas  strange  that  I — a  mountain-boy — 

A  lover  of  green  fields  and  flowers — 
One  who  with  laughing  rills  could  toy, 

And  hold  companionship  for  hours 
With  leaves  that  whisper'd  low  at  night, 

Or  fountains  bubbling  from  their  springs — 


344  J.K'ITERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Or  summer  winds,  whose  downy  flight 

Seem'd  but  the  sweep  of  angel  wings : 
'Twas  strange  that  I  should  love  the  clash 

Of  ocean  in  its  maddest  hour, 
And  joy  to  see  the  billows  dash 

O'er  the  rent  cliff  with  fearful  power. 
'Twas  strange — but  I  was  nature's  own, 

Uncheck'd,  untutor'd  ;  in  my  soul 
A  harp  was  set,  that  gave  its  tone 

To  every  touch  without  control. 
The  zephyr  stirr'd,  in  childhood  warm, 

Thoughts  like  itself,  as  soft  and  blest ; 
And  the  swift  fingers  of  the  storm, 

Woke  its  own  echo  in  my  breast. 
Aye,  and  the  strings  that  else  had  lain 

Untouch'd,  and  to  myself  unknown, 
Within  iny  heart,  gave  back  the  strain, 

That  o'er  the  sea  and  rock  was  thrown. 


These  lines  were  written  many  years  after  the 
events  I  have  been  describing,  yet  the  feelings  and 
fancies  they  portray  were  suggested,  at  least  in  part, 
by  this  my  first  visit  to  the  sea,  and  my  first  adven 
ture  upon  its  capricious  bosom.  I  have  since  crossed 
the  Atlantic  sixteen  times,  and  am  therefore  familiar 
with  all  the  aspects  of  the  ocean — but  never  have 
they  impressed  me  so  deeply  and  so  vividly  as  upon 
this  occasion. 

The  next  object  that  attracted  my  attention  was 
the  Court-house.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  I  saw  a 
"Court" — its  awful  judges,  holding  the  issues  of  life 
and  death,  and  sitting  high  and  apart  upon  the 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  KTC.  345 

"Bench;"  here  also  were  twelve  hard-looking  men, 
exercising  the  high  functions  of  that  glorious  Saxon 
institution,  called  a  "Jury."  Here  also  was  that  terri 
ble  man — the  "  sheriff,"  and  a  poor  wretch  in  a  pen— 
the  "  prisoner  at  the  bar."  The  trial  had  already  be 
gun,  and  a  lawyer,  with  a  powdered  head,  was  telling 
the  court — the  jury  and  the  judges — what  a  desperate 
scoundrel  he  was.  He  proved  him  to  be  a  burglar  of 
the  very  worst  description.  I  felt  my  heart  burn  with 
indignation  that  such  a  monster  should  ever  have 
been  at  large  among  society.  Pretty  soon  another 
lawyer  got  up,  and  made  it  as  clear  as  light,  that  the 
man  was  entirely  innocent.  My  feelings  were  now 
totally  changed,  and  I  felt  as  if  he  were  a  most  de 
serving  and  most  injured  person.  The  jury  at  last 
went  out,  and  after  an  anxious  half  hour,  returned 
with  a  verdict  of  "  guilty."  The  court  then  seTi- 
tenced  the  culprit  to  "  Simsbury  Mines"*  for  five  years. 

*  The  place  called  Simsbury  Mines,  or  Newgate  Prison,  sixteen  miles 
northwest  ot' Hartford,  is  actually  within  the  limits  of  the  town  of  Gran- 
by,  the  latter  having  been  set  off  from  Simsbury  in  1786.  The  mines 
consist  of  deep  excavations  made  in  the  rocks,  for  copper  ore,  by  an 
English  company,  about  1760.  The  speculation  ended  in  disaster,  and 
the  caverns  began  to  be  used  for  a  prison  about  the  time  of  the  Revo 
lutionary  war.  In  1790,  by  a  legislative  act,  it  was  established  as  a  per 
manent  state-prison  under  the  name  of  Newgate — suitable  buildings  be 
ing  erected  over  the  caverns  for  the  purpose.  I  visited  the  place  about 
the  year  1811  or  1812.  The  prisoners  were  heavily  ironed  with  hand- 
cutt's  and  fetters.  In  some  cases  several  were  fastened  together  by 
chains  attached  to  a  bar  of  iron.  Most  of  them  worked  in  a  smithy, 
where  each  man  was  chained  to  his  forge  or  bench.  Sentinels,  with 
loaded  muskets,  stood  ready  to  fire  in  case  of  revolt. 

The  object  of  the  prison  was  not  only  to  shut  up  felons,  and  thus  to 
protect  society,  but  to  cre:itc  an  'ulna  of  horror  in  the  public  mind,  and 


346  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

I  had  been  three  hours  in  the  court-room,  and  my 
interest  had  been  wound  up  to  the  highest  pitch. 
When  I  left  it,  my  head  was  in  a  whirl ;  my  feelings 
also  were  painfully  excited.  I  had  deemed  that  a 
Court  of  Justice  was  holy  ground  ;  that  judges  were 
saints,  and  jurors  grave  men,  deeply  impressed  with 
the  duty  of  a  religious  fulfillment  of  their  high  func 
tions.  I  had  imagined  lawyers  to  be  profoundly 
skilled  in  the  art  of  discerning  and  developing  the 

thus  by  a  moral  influence  to  prevent  crime.  The  abandoned  copper 
mines  were  the  sleeping  place  of  the  criminals.  The  descent  to  these 
infernal  regions  was  by  a  trap-door,  leading  down  a  ladder  sixty  or 
seventy  feet,  through  one  of  the  shafts.  At  the  bottom  was  a  consider 
able  space,  with  short  galleries  leading  in  various  directions.  Here  were 
wooden  berths,  filled  with  straw.  The  prisoners  descended  the  perpen 
dicular  ladder  in  their  irons,  and  thus  slept  at  night.  They  rose  at  four 
in  the  morning,  and  went  to  their  rest  at  four  in  the  afternoon.  Their 
food  was  principally  salt  pork,  salt  beef,  and  beans.  The  caverns  were 
ventilated  by  a  large  shaft,  descending  into  a  well,  near  the  center  of  the 
excavations.  Strange  to  say,  the  health  of  the  prisoners  was  generally 
excellent. 

As  if  these  gloomy  regions  did  not  inspire  sufficient  terror,  it  ap 
pears  that  the  neighborhood,  according  to  popular  ideas,  was  for  a  long 
time  peopled  with  beings  from  the  other  world.  At  one  period  certain 
persons  seemed  to  be  bewitched,  hearing  singular  noises,  and  seeing 
spirits  in  the  air.  More  recently,  the  crying  of  a  child  and  other  strange 
sounds  were  heard  in  an  uninhabited  house.  Several  persons  cauie 
here  to  investigate  the  subject,  and  upon  hearing  the  noises,  suddenly 
entered  the  place,  but  found  nothing.  Two  young  men  one  night  slept 
in  the  house,  and  about  midnight,  heard  something  rush  in  at  the  win 
dow,  like  a  gust  of  wind,  upsetting  the  chairs,  shovel  and  tongs,  and 
then  pass  down  the  ash-hole.  What  could  it  have  been  but  Old  Sooty 
himself? 

It  is  not  astonishing  that  the  very  name  of  Slmsbury  Mines  did,  in  fact, 
inspire  ideas  of  peculiar  horror.  When  I  was  a  boy,  it  was  regarded  as 
next  door  to  that  place  which  it  is  not  polite  to  name.  Malefactors,  it  is 
said,  were  very  shy  of  practicing  their  profession  in  Connecticut,  for 
fear  of  getting  into  this  dreadful  place.  However,  after  a  time,  a  total 
change  of  ideas  spread  over  the  community,  in  regard  to  prisons :  it  was 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTIC  AT.,    ETC.  3tt7 

truth.  I  bad  indulged  a  fancy  that  justice  and  judg 
ment  would  here  reign  in  every  heart,  appear  in  every 
face,  and  guide  every  tongue.  How  different  seemed 
the  reality!  The  general  impression  on  my  mind 
was  a  horror  of  the  place,  and  all  the  proceedings : 
it  appeared  to  me  that  lawyers,  judges,  jury,  sheriff, 
and  all,  were  a  set  of  the  most  heartless  creatures  I 
had  ever  seen — pretending  to  seek  justice,  and  yet 
without  a  single  sentiment  of  humanity.  Even  de 
cency  seemed  to  be  outraged,  in  the  treatment  of  wit 
nesses,  and  in  jibes  cast  at  the  poor  prisoner,  who, 
however  guilty,  rather  invited  sympathy  than  ridi 
cule.  I  must  confess  that  I  have  never  got  entirely 
over  this  my  first  impression  :  the  atmosphere  of  a 
court-room  is  to  me  always  depressing — though,  I  am 
aware,  that  the  manners  here  have  undergone  a  great 
and  favorable  revolution  in  modern  times. 

On  Sunday  I  went  to  the  college  chapel,  and  heard 
Dr.  Dwight  preach.  He  was  then  at  the  zenith  of  his 
fame — a  popular  poet,  an  eloquent  divine,  a  learned 
author,  and,  crowning  all,  president  of  the  college. 


discovered  that  vindictive  punishment  was  alike  wrong 'in  principle 
and  effect;  that,  in  fact,  it  hardened  the  sinner,  while  it  should  always 
be  the  object  of  punishment,  in  restraining  the  felon  for  the  benefit  of 
society,  to  exercise  a  moral  influence  for  his  reformation.  This  idea  must 
be  classed  among  the  larger  humanities  which  have  enlightened  and  en 
nobled  the  public  spirit  of  modern  times. 

Some  thirty  years  ago,  in  conformity  with  these  views,  Simsbury 
Mines  ceased  to  be  a  State  Prison,  aud  an  excellent  institution  for  that 
object  was  established  in  the  beautiful  town  of  Wethersfleld.  Soon  after 
this  period,  Simsbury  Mines  were  again  wrought  for  copper,  and  I  be 
lieve  with  success. 


348  LKTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

He  was  unquestionably,  at  that  time,  the  most  con 
spicuous  man  in  New  England,  filling  a  larger  space 
in  the  public  eye,  and  exerting  a  greater  influence 
than  any  other  individual.  No  man,  since  his  -time, 
has  held  an  equal  ascendency,  during  his  day  and 
generation,  in  New  England — except  perhaps  Daniel 
Webster.  In  allusion  to  his  authority  in  matters  ec 
clesiastical  as  well  as  civil — for  he  was  a  statesman, 
and  exercised  his  influence  in  politics,  not  obtrusive 
ly,  but  by  his  counsel — he  was  familiarly  called  by 
political  adversaries,  Old  Pope  Dwight. 

In  person  he  was  about  six  feet  in  height,  and  of 
a  full,  round,  manly  form.  His  head  was  modeled 
rather  for  beauty  than  craniological  display.  Indeed, 
phrenology  had  not  then  been  discovered,  and  accord 
ingly  great  men  were  born  without  paying  the  slight 
est  attention  to  its  doctrines.  Dr.  Dwight  had,  in 
fact,  no  bumps :  I  have  never  seen  a  smoother, 
rounder  pa^e  than  his,  which,  being  slightly  bald 
and  close  shorn,  was  easily  examined.  He  had,  how 
ever,  a  noble  aspect — a  full  forehead  and  piercing  black 
eyes,  though  partly  covered  up  with  large  spectacles  in 
a  tortoise-shell  frame — for  he  had  been  long  afflicted 
with  a  morbid  sensibility  of  the  organs  of  sight.  On 
the  whole,  his  presence  was  singularly  commanding, 
enforced  by  a  manner  somewhat  authoritative  and 
emphatic.  This  might  have  been  offensive,  had  not 
his  character  and  position  prepared  all  around  to  tol 
erate,  perhaps  to  admire  it.  His  voice  was  one  of 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  349 

the  finest  I  ever  have  heard  from  the  pulpit — clear, 
hearty,  sympathetic — and  entering  into  the  soul  .like 
the  middle  notes  of  an  organ.  The  subject  of  his 
discourse  I  do  not  recollect ;  trained,  however,  as  I 
had  been  from  childhood,  to  regard  him  as  second 
only  to  St.  Paul — I  discovered  in  it  full  justification 
of  his  great  fame.* 

The  house  of  my  uncle,  Elizur  Goodrich,  where 

*  The  life  of  Timothy  Dwight  is  full  of  interesting  materials  for  the 
biographer.  His  family  connections,  his  precocity,  his  development,  his 
performances,  his  heart,  his  mind,  the  details  of  his  career — all  abound 
in  those  striking  lights  and  shades,  which  rivet  the  attention. 

His  father  was  a  merchant  of  Northampton,  his  mother  daughter  of 
Jonathan  Edwards — the  most  renowned  metaphysician  America  has  pro 
duced.  He  was  born  May  14, 1752.  He  learned  the  alphabet  of  his  moth 
er  at  one  lesson  :  at  six  he  read  Latin  ;  at  eight  was  fitted  for  college  ; 
at  thirteen  he  entered  Yale  ;  at  nineteen  he  began  his  great  poem  of  the 
Conquest  of  Canaan,  and  finished  it  in  three  years,  though  it  was  not 
published  till  1785.  He  taught  rhetoric,  mathematics,  and  oratory  in 
the  college  for  six  years.  After  this  he  returned  to  Northamptop,  and 
in  1777,  married  Miss  Woolsey,  sister  of  Wm.  W.  Woolsey,  for  many 
years  a  distinguished  merchant  in  New  Haven.  The  same  year  he  was 
licensed  to  preach,  and  became  chaplain  in  the  army,  which  he  joined 
at  West  Point.  Here  he  wrote  his  celebrated  song  of  Columbia.  In  1781 
he  was  a  member  of  the  State  legislature  ;  and  in  1783  was  settled  as 
minister  at  Greenfield.  His  meeting-house  was  visible  to  the  naked  eye 
from  the  windows  of  our  house  at  Kidgefield.  In  this  village  he  wrote 
his  fine  poem  of  Greenfield  Hill,  which  appeared  in  1794.  The  next  year 
he  succeeded  Dr.  Stiles  as  President  of  ^Yale  College,  a  post  which  he 
filled  till  his  death,  Jan.  11,  1817,  at  the  age  of  64. 

Dr.  Dwight's  works  are  numerous  and  valuable :  besides  poems,  es 
says,  &c.,  he  wrote  several  volumes  of  Travels,  descriptive  of  scenes  and 
places  in  New  England,  which  he  had  visited  during  college  vacations. 
His  greatest  work  is  Theology  Explained  and  Defended.  .This  has  been 
extensively  published  here  and  in  England,  and  is  greatly  admired  for 
its  argument,  its  eloquence,  and  its  happy  manner  as  well  of  statement 
as  of  illustration. 

The  following  memoranda,  respecting  this  great  man,  have  been  mostly 
furnished  me  by  his  nephew,  Mr.  Theodore  Dwight,  now  of  New  York 
(1856). 


350    ,  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

we  stayed,  was  then  rather  the  focal  point  of  society 
in  the  city — partly  because  of  his  official  position 
and  genial  manners,  and  partly,  also,  on  account  of 
the  character  of  his  wife,  who,  to  say  the  least,  in  a 
happy  union  of  the  highest  womanly  qualities,  was  in 
ferior  to  few  ladies  of  her  time.  Every  evening  there 
was  here  a  levee  of  accidental  visitors,  consisting  of 

The  Dwiglit  family  in  this  country  ia  descended  from  John  Dwight, 
who  came  from  England  in  1637,  and  settled  at  Dedham,  in  Massachu 
setts.  The  grandfather  of  Dr.  Dwight  built  Fort  Dummur,  the  first  set 
tlement  within  the  bounds  of  Vermont,  about  1723-4.  Here  the  father 
of  Dr.  Dwight  was  born.  He  was  a  man  of  immense  strength  and 
stature.  During  the  Revolutionary  war  he  went  to  New  Orleans  and 
up  the  Mississippi,  where  he  purchased  land,  intending  to  remove  there 
with  his  large  family.  The  tract  extended  some  miles  along  the  bank, 
and  included  the  site  of  the  present  city  of  Natchez  ;  but  he  soon  after 
died  of  a  fever.  A  son  who  accompanied  him  was  lost  at  sea,  and  the 
evidence  of  his  title  to  the  land  was  never  found. 

The  news  of  the  death  of  the  father  of  the  family  was  about  a  year 
in  reaching  them.  It  was  a  summer  day,  and  one  of  the  elder  sons 
was  making  hay  in  a  field,  when  one  of  the  smallest  children,  who  had 
been  present  at  its  announcement,  came  tottering  through  the  grass, 
with  the  sad  story.  The  youth  threw  his  pitchfork  into  the  air,  and 
exclaimed,  "  Then  we're  all  ruined  !"  and  such  was  the  force  of  his  emo 
tions,  that  his  mind  never  recovered  from  the  effects  to  the  day  of  his 
death. 

Timothy,  the  eldest  son,  was  absent  with  the  army.  He  now  (1778)  went 
to  reside  in  Northampton,  with  his  mother,  and  assumed  the  manage 
ment  of  the  aifairs  of  the  family.  He  carried  on  their  two  farms,  and 
at  the  same  time  conducted  a  school,  and  preached  in  the  adjacent  towns. 
A  number  of  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  from  different  parts  of  the 
country,  were  among  his  pupils.  He  had  two  ushers — one  of  whom  was 
Joel  Barlow.  Gen.  Zechariah  Huntington  and  Judge  Hosmer  were  his 
pupils ;  and  a  number  of  young  men  went  to  him  from  Yale  College, 
after  the  capture  of  New  Haven.  He  was  at  that  time  very  acceptable 
as  :i  preacher,  often  filling  the  pulpit  where  his  grandfather,  Jonathan 
Edwards,  had  officiated.  He  not  only  directed  the  business  of  the  farms, 
but  often  worked  in  the  field  with  the  men,  his  brother  Theodore  being 
at  his  side.  The  latter,  from  whom  these  facts  are  derived,  mentioned 
that  the  hired  men  used  to  contest  for  the  privilege  of  mowing  next  to 
Timothy,  "that  they  .might  hear  him  talk''1 — fluent,  interesting,  and  in- 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  351 

the  distinguished  men  of  the  city,  and  often  including 
other  celebrities.  Among  the  noted  individuals  I  saw 
there,  was  John  Allen,'  brother  of  Mrs.  Goodrich — a 
man  of  eminent  talents  and  most  imposing  person, 
being  six  feet  six  inches  high,  with  a  corresponding 
power  of  expression  in  his  form  and  face.  He  had 
been  a  member  of  Congress,  and  is  recorded  in  its 

structive  conversation  being  at  that  time,  as  through  life,  one  of  his 
characteristics. 

The  family  comprised  thirteen  children,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  now 
at  home.  The  house  was  in  King-street,  and  next  to  it,  on  the  east,  was 
that  which  had  been  the  residence  of  Jonathan  Edwards  during  his 
ministry.  There  David  Brainard  had  died,  nursed  in  his  last  sickness 
by  one  of  the  daughters  of  Mr.  E. ,  to  whom  he  was  engaged.  In  the 
burying-ground  was  the  'grave  of  Brainard,  which  was  then,  and  long 
after,  annually  visited  by  some  of  his  Indian  converts,  who  used  to  make 
long  journeys  through  the  wilderness  to  sit  a  few  hours  in  silent  medi 
tation  and  mourning,  over  his  ashes. 

Timothy  Dwight  had  been  trained  from  his  earliest  years  among  the 
simple  but  refined  society  of  Northampton,  and  was  familiarized  with 
the  history  of  the  French  and  Indian  wars,  which  had  been  the  sources 
of  so  much  suffering  to  the  friends  and  ancestors  of  those  around  him. 
The  impressions  which  he  received  from  such  scenes  and  examples,  were 
permanent  on  his  character  and  life.  He  entered  the  American  revolu 
tionary  army  as  a  chaplain  to  General  Putnam's  regiment,  with  the  ardor 
of  a  youthful  Christian  patriot;  preached  with  energy  to  the  troops  in 
camp,  sometimes  with  a  pile  of  the  regiment's  drums  before  him,  instead 
of  a  desk.  One  of  his  sermons,  intended  to  raise  the  drooping  cour 
age  of  the  country,  when  Bnrgoyne  had  come  down  from  Canada  with 
his  army,  and  was  carrying  all  before  him — was  published,  and  a  copy 
read  to  the  garrison  in  Fort  Stanwix,  on  the  Mohawk  river,  when  Sir 
John  Johnson  had  cut  oft"  their-  communications  with  Albany,  and  threat 
ened  their  destruction.  The  venerable  Colonel  Platt,  many  years  after, 
affirmed  that  it  was  owing  to  this  sermon,  that  the  garrison  resolved  to 
hold  out  to  the  last  extremity,  and  made  the  sally  in  which  they  routed 
and  drove  off  their  besiegers,  delivering  Albany  from  imminent  danger, 
and  contributing  materially  to  the  defeat  of  the  British  in  their  cam 
paign  of  1777. 

Many  of  the  personal  traits  of  Dr.  Dwight  were  interesting.  He  wrote 
like  copperplate  :  such  was  the  rapid  flow  of  his  ideas  that  he  could  em 
ploy  at  the  same  time  two  amanuenses,  by  dictating  to  them  on  totally 


352  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

annals  by  the  title  of  "  Long  John."  He  was  in 
person,  as  well  as  mind,  a  sort  of  Anakim  among  the 
members  of  the  House.* 

Here  also  I  saw  Dr.  Dwight,  who  was  perhaps  even 
more  distinguished  in  conversation  than  in  the  pulpit. 
He  was  indeed  regarded  as  without  a  rival  in  this 
respect  :  his  knowledge  was  extensive  and  various, 
and  his  language  eloquent,  rich,  and  flowing.  His 
fine  voice  and  noble  person  gave  great  effect  to  what 
he  said.  When  he  spoke,  others  were  silent.  This 
arose  in  part  from  the  superiority  of  his  powers,  but 
in  part  also  from  his  manner,  which,  as  I  have  said, 
was  somewhat  authoritative.  Thus  he  engrossed,  not 
rudely,  but  with  the  willing  assent  of  those  around 
him,  the  lead  in  conversation.  Nevertheless,  I  must 
remark,  that  in  society  the  imposing  grandeur  of 

different  subjects.  He  labored  daily  in  the  garden,  or  in  some  other  way, 
holding  it  to  be  the  duty  of  every  man  to  labor,  bodily,  so  as  to  insure 
the  perfection  of  life  and  enjoyment.  He  advised  professional  men,  in 
traveling,  and  on  other  occasions,  to  enter  into  easy  and  kindly  conver 
sation  with  strangers,  as  a  means  of  gaining  knowledge,  and  cultivating 
a  kindly  feeling  in  society.  He  constantly  taught  the  duty  of  courtesy 
and  politeness  ;  he  loved  his  country  and  our  free  institutions,  and  in 
culcated  the  duty  of  a  constant  endeavor  to  elevate  and  ennoble  the 
public  sentiment.  He  despised  all  meanness,  and  especially  that  dem- 
agogism,  which,  under  a  pretense  of  patriotism,  is  seeking  only  for  self- 
promotion,  and  which  is  even  willing  to  degrade  the  people,  in  order  to 
gratify  personal  ambition.  It  is  impossible  to  measure  the  good  done 
by  such  a  man  by  his  personal  example,  by  his  influence  upon  the  stu 
dents  under  his  care  for  twenty  years,  and  by  the  impress  of  his  noble 
character  upon  the  important  institution  which  was  the  theater  of  his 
labors. 

*  Hon.  John  Allen  was  a  native  of  Great  Barrington :  he  settled  in 
Litchfield  in  1785,  and  died  in  1812.  He  was  not  only  a  member  of  Con 
gress,  but  also  of  the  State  Council  for  several  years.  His  sou,  John 
W.  Allen,  of  Cleveland,  has  been  a  member  of  Congress. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  353 

his  personal  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  was  softened 
by  a  general  blandness  of  expression  and  a  sedulous 
courtesy  of  manner,  which  were  always  conciliating, 
and  sometimes  really  captivating.  His  smile  was 
irresistible. 

In  reflecting  upon  this  good  and  great  man,  and 
reading  his  works  in  after-time,  I  am  still  impressed 
with  his  general  superiority — his  manly  intellect,  his 
vast  range  of  knowledge,  and  his  large  heart ; — yet,  I 
am  persuaded  that,  on  account  of  his  noble  person — • 
the  perfection  of  the  visible  man — he  exercised  a  pow 
er  in  his  day  and  generation,  somewhat  beyond  the 
natural  scope  of  his  mental  endowments.  Those  who 
read  his  works  only,  can  not  fully  realize  the  impres 
sion  which  he  made  upon  the  age  in  which  he  lived. 
His  name  is  still  honored :  many  of  his  works  still 
live.  His  Body  of  Divinity  takes  the  precedence,  not 
only  here,  but  in  England,  over  all  works  of  the 
same  kind  and  the  same  doctrine  ;  but  at  the  period 
to  which  I  refer,  he  was  regarded  with  a  species  of 
idolatry  by  those  around  him.  Even  the  pupils  of 
the  college  under  his  presidential  charge — those  who 
are  not  usually  inclined  to  hero-worship — almost 
adored  him.  To  this  day,  those  who  had  the  good 
fortune  to  receive  their  education  under  his  auspices, 
look  back  upon  it  as  a  great  era  in  their  lives. 

There  was  indeed  reason  for  this.  With  all  his 
greatness  in  other  respects,  Dr.  Dwight  seems  to  have 
been  more  particularly  felicitous  as  the  teacher,  the 


354:  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

counsellor,  the  guide,  of  educated  young  men.  In 
the  lecture-room  all  his  high  and  noble  qualities 
seemed  to  find  their  full  scope.  He  did  not  here 
confine  himself  to  merely  scientific  instruction :  he 
gave  lessons  in  morals  and  manners,  and  taught, 
with  a  wisdom  which  experience  and  common  sense 
only  could  have  furnished,  the  various  ways  to  in 
sure  success  in  life.  He  gave  lectures  upon  health — 
the  art  of  maintaining  a  vigorous  constitution,  with 
the  earnest  pursuit  of  professional  duties — citing  his 
own  example,  which  consisted  in  laboring  every 
day  in  the  garden,  when  the  season  permitted,  and 
at  other  times  at  some  mechanical  employment.  He 
recommended  that  in  intercourse  with  mankind,  his 
pupils  should  always  converse  with  each  individual 
upon  that  subject  in  which  he  was  most  instructed, 
observing  that  he  never  met  a  man  of  whom  he  could 
not  learn  something.  He  gave  counsel,  suited  to  the 
various  professions ;  to  those  who  were  to  become 
clergymen,  he  imparted  the  wisdom  which  he  had 
gathered  by  a  life  of  long  and  active  experience  :  he 
counseled  those  who  were  to  become  lawyers,  physi 
cians,  merchants — and  all  with  a  fullness  of  knowl 
edge  and  a  felicity  of  illustration  and  application,  as 
if  he  had  actually  spent  a  life  in  each  of  these  voca 
tions.  And  more  than  this  :  he  sought  to  infuse  into 
the  bosom  of  all,  that  high  principle  which  served 
to  inspire  his  own  soul — that  is,  to  be  always  a  gen 
tleman,  taking  St.  Paul  as  his  model.  He  considered 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  355 

not  courtesy  only,  but  truth,  honor,  manliness  in  all 
things,  as  essential  to  this  character.  Every  kind  of 
meanness  he  despised.  Love  of  country  was  the  con 
stant  theme  of  his  eulogy.  Religion  was  the  soul  of 
his  system.  God  was  the  center  of  gravity,  and  man 
should  make  the  moral  law  as  inflexible  as  the  law 
of  nature.  Seeking  to  elevate  all  to  this  sphere,  he 
still  made  its  orbit  full  of  light — fhe  light  of  love, 
and  honor,  and  patriotism,  and  literature,  and  ambi 
tion — all  verging  toward  that  fullness  of  glory,  which 
earth  only  reflects  and  heaven  only  can  unfold. 

Was  not  this  greatness  ? — not  the  greatness  of  ge 
nius,  for  after  all  Dr.  D  wight  was  only  a  man  of  large 
common  sense  and  a  large  heart,  inspired  by  high 
moral  principles.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  Yankee,  Christian 
gentleman — nothing  more — nothing  less.  Where 
could  such  character — with  such  lights  and  shades — 
be  produced,  except  here  in  our  stern,  yet  kindly  cli 
mate  of  New  England  ?  Can  you  find  such  a  biog 
raphy  as  this  in  France  ?  in  Germany  ?  in  Old  Eng 
land,  even  ?  You  may  find  men  of  genius,  but  hardly 
of  that  Puritan  type,  so  well  illustrated  in  the  life  and 
character  of  Timothy  Dwight.  Shake  not  your  head, 
then,  my  dear  C  . . . .,  and  say  that  nothing  good  can 
come  of  this,  our  cold,  northern  Nazareth ! 

Another  man,  whom  I  now  saw  for  the  first  time, 
was  Professor  Silliman,  then  beginning  to  fill  a  large 
space  in  the  public  eye.  He  had  recently  returned 
from  a  visit  to  Europe,  but  did  not  publish  his  "  Jour 


356  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

nal  of  Travels"  till  the  next  year.  It  was  a  great 
thing  then  to  go  to  Europe,  and  get  back  safe.  It 
was  a  great  thing  then  to  look  upon  a  person  who 
had  achieved  such  an  enterprise,  and  especially  a  man 
like  the  professor,  who  had  held  communication  with 
the  learned  and  famous  people  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  But  this  was  not  all :  Professor  Silliman 
had  begun  to  popularize  the  discoveries  of  the  new 
science  of  Chemistry.  What  wonders  were  thus  dis 
closed  to  the  astonished  people  !  By  means  of  blow 
pipes,  flasks,  and  crucibles,  all  nature  seemed  to  be 
transformed  as  by  the  spells  of  a  sorcerer.  The  four  old- 
fashioned  elements  were  changed — proved,  in  short, 
to  be  impostors,  having  been  passed  off  from  time 
immemorial  as  solid,  substantial,  honest  elements, 
while  they  were  in  fact,  each  and  all,  only  a  parcel 
of  compounds  !  Fire  was  no  longer  fire ;  it  was  only 
an  incident  of  combustion :  heat  was  a  sensation,  and 
at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  matter  was  a  thing  called 
caloric.  Earth,  that  stable,  old-fashioned  footstool  of 
man  and  his  Maker,  was  resolved  into  at  least  fifty 
ingredients ;  air  was  found  to  be  made  up  of  two 
gases,  called  oxygen  and  nitrogen — one  being  a  sort 
of  good  angel,  supporting  life  and  combustion,  and 
the  other  a  kind  of  bad  devil,  stifling  the  breath,  put 
ting  out  the  candle,  and  destroying  vegetation.  As 
to  water,  that,  too,  was  forced  to  confess  that  it  had 
hitherto  practiced  an  imposition  upon  the  world,  for 
instead  of  being  a  simple,  frank,  honest  element,  it 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  357 

was  composed  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen — the  latter 
of  such  levity  as  to  be  fit  for  little  else  than  inflating 
balloons ! 

What  a  general  upsetting  of  all  old-fashioned  ideas 
of  creation  was  this !  It  is  scarcely  possible  for  any 
one  to  conceive  what  a  change  has  taken  place, 
through  the  influence  of  chemistry,  within  the  last 
half  century.  Every  substance  in  nature  has  been 
attacked,  and  few  have  preserved  their  integrity. 
This  science  has  passed  from  the  laboratory  to  the 
workshop,  the  manufactory,  the  farm,  the  garden,  the 
kitchen.  Everybody  is  now  familiar  with  its  discov 
eries,  its  principles,  its  uses.  Chemistry,  which  was. 
a  black  art  when  I  was  a  boy,  is  in  the  school-books 
now ;  and  Professor  Silliman  was  the  great  magi 
cian  that  brought  about  this  revolution  in  our  coun 
try.  He  had  just  commenced  his  incantations,  and 
already  the  world  began  to  echo  with  their  wonders. 
With  what  engrossing  admiration  did  I  look  at  him, 
when  he  came  into  the  room,  and  I  heard  his  name 
announced !  • 

At  this  time,  his  lectures  were  not  only  attended 
by  the  youth  of  the  college,  but  by  a  few  privileged 
ladies  and  gentlemen  from  the  world  without.  I 
went  with  one  of  my  cousins,  entertaining  the  common 
idea  that  chemistry  was  much  the  same  as  alchemy — 
an  art  whose  chief  laboratory  was  in  the  infernal  re 
gions.  I  had  read  something  about  the  diableries  of 
Friar  Bacon,  seeking  by  compact  with  the  Great 


358  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Blacksmith  below,  to  discover  the  philosopher's 
stone,  but  hitting  by  accident  upon  gunpowder ; 
and  this  formed  my  general  notion  of  the  science. 
When  I  entered  the  lecture-room,  and  saw  around, 
a  furnace,  an  anvil,  a  sink,  crucibles,  flasks,  retorts, 
receivers,  spatulas,  a  heap  of  charcoal,  a  bed  ol 
sand,  with  thermometers,  pyrometers,  barometers, 
hydrometers,  and  an  array  of  other  ometers,  with 
a  variety  of  odd-looking  instruments  —  the  use  of 
which  I  could  not  imagine — I  began  to  feel  a  strange 
sort  of  bewilderment.  This  was  turned  to  anxiety, 
when  I  perceived  in  the  air  an  odor  that  I  had  never 
experienced  before,  and  which  seemed  to  me  to 
breathe  of  that  pit  which  is  nameless  as  well  as  bot 
tomless.  I  asked  one  of  the  pupils  who  sat  near  me 
about  it,  and  he  said  it  was  sulphureted  hydrogen, 
whereupon  I  became  composed  ;  not  that  I  knew  any 
better  what  it  was,  but  as  they  had  a  name  for  it,  I 
supposed  it  was  of  earth  and  not  of  the  other  place. 

At  last  the  lecturer  began.  I  was  immediately  at 
tracted  by  his  bland  manner  and  beautiful  speech. 
All  my  horrors  passed  instantly  away,  and  in  a  few 
moments  I  was  deep  in  the  labyrinths  of  alkalies, 
acids,  oxygen,  hydrogen,  nitrogen,  &c.  I  learned 
how  sulphur  with  an  ic  meant  one  thing,  with  an  ous, 
another,  with  an  et,  another,  and  so  on.  Finally,  the 
professor  got  beyond  my  reach,  and  I  was  completely 
lost  in  a  maze  of  words,  too  deep  for  my  comprehen 
sion.  But  now  the  theory  was  done,  and  the  experi 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  359 

ments  began.  The  lights  were  put  out.  A  piece  of 
wire  was  coiled  in  a  glass  jar,  filled  with  oxygen.  A 
light  was  applied — and  fizz — fizz — fizz,  went  the  wire, 
actually  burning  like  a  witch-quill !  That  was  chem 
istry,  brought  down  to  the  meanest  capacity.  We 
all  clapped  hands,  as  they  do  now  at  Niblo's.  Af 
ter  this,  one  or  two  of  the  pupils  took  exhilarating 
gas,  and  thereupon  seemed  to  enjoy  the  most  deli 
cious  trances.  Still  other  experiments  followed,  and 
everybody  was  convinced  that  the  new  science  was 
not.  a  thing  to  be  feared,  as  smelling  of  necromancy, 
but  that  in  fact  it  was  an  honest  science,  fit  to  be 
introduced  even  into  the  domestic  arts.  Since  that 
time  it  has  actually  transformed  the  whole  business 
of  life,  producing  benefits  which  no  words  can  ade 
quately  describe. 

Geology  followed  close  upon  the  heels  of  chemis 
try.  This,  too,  which  was  confined  to  the  arcana  of 
science  in  my  boyhood,  and  was  even  there  a  novelty, 
is  now  a  school  study.  Professor  Silliman  has  been 
a  leader  in  this  also.  He  had  commenced  at  the  peri 
od  of  which  I  am  speaking,  but  he  had  only  advanced 
into  its  precincts — the  science  of  mineralogy.  This 
had  begun  to  be  popular  in  the  centers  of  learning : 
young  collegians  went  into  the  mountains  with  bags 
and  hammers,  and  came  back  loaded  with  queer  stones. 
In  fact,  hunting  specimens  took  the  place  of  hunting 
bears,  deer,  and  foxes,  and  was  pursued  with  all  the 
ardor  of  the  chase.  Ladies,  turning  blue,  had  pieces 


360  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

of  marble,  ore,  quartz,  and  other  things  of  the  kind, 
on  their  mantel-pieces,  and  those  who  were  thorough 
ly  dyed,  had  little  cabinets,  all  arranged  on  Haiiy's 
principles  of  crystallography.  Let  me  tell  an  anecdote 
in  illustration  of  the  spirit  of  the  age. 

About  this  time  Colonel  Gibbs,  originally  from 
Rhode  Island,  but  who  now  lived  on  Long  Island, 
near  Flushing,  became  an  enthusiast  in  the  new  sci 
ence.  He  was  in  fact  the  founder  of  the  splendid  min- 
eralogical  cabinet  at  present  belonging  to  Yale  Col 
lege.  While  he  was  in  the  very  crisis  of  his  fever,  he 
chanced  to  be  traveling  in  a  stage-coach  among  one  of 
the  remote  rocky  districts  of  New  Hampshire.  Coming 
at  last  to  a  region  which  looked  promising  of  min- 
eralogical  discoveries,  he  stopped  at  a  small,  obscure 
tavern,  borrowed  a  hammer,  and  went  into  the  mount 
ains.  Here  he  soon  became  engrossed  in  his  research 
es,  which  were  speedily  rewarded  by  several  interest 
ing  specimens.  In  his  enthusiasm,  his  own  exertions 
were  not  sufficient,  so  that  he  employed  several  per 
sons  to  assist  him  in  knocking  the  rocks  to  pieces. 
At  the  end  of  a  week  he  had  completely  exhausted 
his  cash.  He  then  paid  the  workmen  in  coats,  panta 
loons,  boots,  shoes,  and  at  last  in  shirts.  These  finally 
came  to  an  end,  and  he  paid  in  promises,  in  no  de 
gree  abating  his  zeal.  By  this  time  he  had  collected 
three  sacks  of  stones,  which  it  took  six  men  to  carry. 
The  people  around  did  not  comprehend  him,  and  of 
course  supposed  him  to  be  insane.  One  day,  while 


HISTOKICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  361 

he  chanced  to  be  in  the  tavern,  an  acquaintance  of 
his  came  along  in  the  stage-coach,  and  the  two  eager 
ly  exchanged  salutations.  The  keeper  of  the  hotel, 
seeing  this,  took  the  stranger  aside,  and  said  : 

"  You  seem  to  be  acquainted  with  this  gentleman  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  him  :  it  is  Colonel  Gibbs,  of  Long 
Island." 

"  Well,  he  said  his  name  was  Gibbs,  but  he  is  as 
mad  as  a  March  hare." 

"  Indeed  :  what  makes  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Why  he  has  been  here  a  fortnight  knocking  all 
Monadnock  to  pieces.  He  has  spent  all  his  money, 
and  given  away  his  clothes,  till  he  hasn't  a  shirt  to 
his  back.  If  you  are  a  friend  of  his,  you  ought  to 
make  his  family  acquainted  with  his  situation,  so 
that  he  may  be  taken  care  of." 

"  Oh,  I  understand.  The  colonel  is  not  insane : 
he  is  a  mineralogist." 

"  A  what  ?" 

"  A  mineralogist — a  collector  of  curious  stones." 

"  Are  they  to  eat  ?" 

"  No  ;  they  are  specimens  to  be  preserved  for  sci 
entific  purposes." 

"  Ha,  ha !  what  quiddles  there  are  in  this  world  f 
Every  little  while,  one  on  'em  comes  along  here. 
Last  year,  a  man,  called  a  professor  from  Cambridge, 
stopped  here  a  week,  ketching  all  the  bugs,  beetles, 
and  butterflies  he  could  find.  About  the  same  time, 
another  man  carne,  and  he  went  into  the  mountains, 

VOL.  I.— 16 


LETf  ERS BIOGRAPHIC  AL, 

pulling  up  all  the  odd  weeds  and  strange  plants  he 
met  with.  He  took  away  a  bundle  as  big  as  a  hay 
cock  ;  and  now  this  Colonel  somebody  is  making  a 
collection  of  queer  stones  1  I  think  the  people  down 
your  way  can't  have  much  to  du,  else  they  wouldn't 
take  to  such  nonsense  as  this." 

I  give  you  this  story,  not  vouching  for  its  precise 
accuracy,  but  as  characterizing  the  zeal  for  modern  sci 
ence,  in  this  its  birthday.  The  truth  is,  that  somewhat 
more  than  half  a  century  ago,  physical  science  had  al 
most  completely  engrossed  the  leading  minds  in  Eu 
rope.  Discouraged  or  disgusted  with  diving  into  the 
depths  of  metaphysics,  the  learned  world  eagerly  be 
gan  to  bore  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth :  instead  of 
studying  mind,  they  pounded  and  pondered  upon  mat 
ter.  Chemistry,  mineralogy,  geology,  and  a  whole 
family  of  ologies,  became  the  rage.  This  transat 
lantic  epidemic  migrated  to  America.  It  was  in  full 
vigor  among  the  learned  here,  at  the  time  I  speak 
of.  In  the  benighted  parts  of  the  country,  as  in  the 
precincts  of  Monadnock,  this  mania  still  appeared 
to  be  madness.  There  was  method  in  it,  how 
ever.  The  modern  discoveries  of  chemistry,  min 
eralogy,  &c.,  as  already  intimated,  have  wrought  a 
change  in  human  knowledge,  astonishing  alike  for 
the  enlargement  of  its  boundaries,  the  novelty  of  its 
revelations,  and  the  certainty  and  precision  which 
have  taken  the  place  of  doubt  and  conjecture.  The 
hills,  the  mountains,  the  valleys,  with  their  founda- 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  303 

tions — the  layers  of  rocks  which  have  been  hidden 
from  the  "beginning" — have  been  examined,  and  their 
secrets  laid  open  to  the  world.  Here  have  been  found 
the  traces  of  kingdoms — vegetable,  mineral,  and  an 
imal — belonging  to  other  creations,  such  as  leaves  of 
perished  races  of  plants,  bones  of  extinct  races  of  ani 
mals,  rocks  built  before  the  flood.  These  have  all 
become  familiar  to  us,  and  their  inscriptions  have  dis 
closed  wonders  of  which  mankind  had  never  before 
dreamed.  Thus  within  the  last  fifty  years,  new  sci 
ences  have  been  created,  and  have  lavished  their 
wonders  upon  the  astonished  world.  Champollion 
discovered  the  means  of  interpreting  the  mystic  signs 
upon  the  monuments  of  Egypt ;  but  behold  a  greater 
wonder  :  Cuvier  and  his  followers  have  enabled  us 
to  read  the  lines  written  by  God  upon  the  rocks  which 
were  laid  deep  in  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  mil 
lions  of  ages  ago ! 

When  Dr.  Webster  came  to  revise  his  Dictionary 
in  1840,  after  a  lapse  of  twelve  years,  he  found  it  ne 
cessary  to  add  several  thousand  words,  in  order  to 
express  the  ideas  which  had  recently  passed  from 
technological  science,  into  our  common  language. 
Similar  additions  were  required,  a  few  years  after,  in 
the  preparation  of  another  revised  edition.  Nothing 
can  more  strikingly  mark  the  progress  of  knowledge, 
not  merely  in  the  minds  of  scholars,  but  among  the 
masses,  during  the  period  to  which  I  refer,  than  this. 
There  is  no  half  century  like  the  last,  in  the  history 


LKTTKKS—  BIOGKAl'lIIOAL 


of  mankind.  Nor  is  the  end  jet.  The  thirst  for 
discovery  seems  only  to  have  begun. 

Indeed,  such  is  the  celerity  of  our  progress,  that 
some  heads  grow  giddy.  They  begin  to  see  double  :  old 
men  have  visions,  and  young  maidens  dream  dreams. 
Materialism  pervades  the  air,  and  the  new  spiritual 
world  is  a  mere  mesmeric  phantasmagoria  of  this 
earthy  ball,  which  we  inhabit.  Spirits,  now-a-days, 
push  about  tables,  rap  at  the  door,  tumble  over  the 
chairs,  learn  the  alphabet,  and  spell  their  names  with 
emphasis.  Lusty  spirits  are  they,  with  vigorous  mus 
cles,  hard  knuckles,  and  rollicking  humors!  They 
will  talk,  too,  and  as  great  nonsense  as  any  alive. 
If  these  are  the  only  kind  of  souls  to  be  met  with, 
in  their  seven  heavens,  one  would  hardly  like  to  go 
there.  Eeally,  these  mesmeric  spirits  seem  very  much 
of  the  ardent  kind,  and  I  suspect  have  more  alcohol 
of  the  imagination  than  real  immortality  about  them. 

Another  remarkable  person  whom  I  saw  at  my  un 
cle's  house  was  Eli  Whitney,  the  inventor  of  the  cotton- 
gin.  He  was  a  large  man  of  rather  full  habit,  slightly 
round-shouldered,  and  doubling  himself  forward  as  he 
sat.  His  face  was  large  and  slightly  oval  ;  his  nose 
long  and  hooked  ;  his  eye  deep-set,  black,  and  keen  ; 
his  look  penetrating  and  prolonged.  His  hair  was 
black,  though  sprinkled  with  gray,  for  he  was  now 
some  five  and  forty  years  old  ;  his  skin  was  smooth, 
sallow,  and  pallid.  Altogether,  his  appearance  was 
striking,  the  expression  of  his  face  having  a  deep 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  365 

thoughtfulness  about  the  brow,  tempered  by  a  pleas 
ant  smile  at  the  corners  of  the  mouth. 

In  conversation  he  was  slow,  but  his  thoughts 
were  clear  and  weighty.  His  knowledge  seemed  at 
once  exact  and  diversified  :  he  spoke  more  of  science 
than  literature  ;  he  was  not  discursive,  but  logically 
pursued  trains  of  thought,  shedding  light  at  every 
sentence.  Few  men  have  lived  to  more  purpose 
than  he.  Before  his  time,  cotton  was  separated  from 
the  seed  by  hand,  and  hence  its  price  was  thirty  to 
fifty  cents  a  pound.  He  produced  a  machine,  by 
which  a  series  of  hooked,  iron  teeth,  playing  through 
openings  in  a  receiver,  performed  the  labor  of  five 
hundred  men  in  a  day  !  An  immense  facility  in  the 
production  of  cotton  has  been  the  result,  with  a  cor 
responding  fall  in  its  price  and  extension  of  its  use, 
throughout  Christendom. 

In  1790,*  cotton  was  hardly  known  in  this  country ; 

*  Cotton  appears  to  have  been  used  in  India  for  making  cloths  as 
early  as  440  B.  c.,  and  probably  long  before  that  time,  yet  here  the  art 
remained  isolated  for  ages.  The  Arabians  at  length  brought  India  cot 
ton  to  Adula,  on  the  Red  Sea,  whence  it  was  introduced  into  Europe. 
The  cotton  manufacture  was  brought  there  by  the  Moors  of  Spain  in  the 
ninth  century.  Raw  cotton  was  first  introduced  into  England  from  the 
Levant,  chiefly  for  candlewicks.  The  cotton  manufacture  was  brought 
hither  by  the  refugees  from  the  Low  Countries  in  the  time  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  For  a  long  time,  the  fabrics  produced  were  coarse  ;  the  finei 
cotton  goods — muslins,  calicoes,  chintzes,  being  largely  supplied  from 
India.  In  1730,  Mr.  Wyatt  first  began  to  spin  cotton  by  machinery.  IK 
1742,  the  first  cotton-spinning  mill  was  built  at  Manchester,  the  motive- 
power  being  mules  and  horses.  The  entire  value  of  the  cotton  manu 
facture  of  England  in  1760  was  a  million  of  dollars:  now  it  is  probablj 
two  hundred  millions  of  dollars. 

In  1790,  Mr.  Slater  put  up  at  Pawtucket,  R.  I.,  the  first  cotton-mill  in 


866  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

in  1800,  the  whole  product  of  the  United  States  was 
eighty -five  thousand  bales ;  in  1855,  it  is  three  millions 
and  a  half  of  bales.  Nearly  half  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  seventy-five  years  ago,  went  naked  or  in  rags, 
or  in  bark  or  skins  ;  but  they  are  now  clothed  in  cot 
ton.  Then  a  shirt  cost  a  week's  work ;  now  a.  man 
earns  two  shirts  in  a  day.  Now,  during  every  twelve 
hours  of  daylight,  the  spindles  of  the  world  produce 
threads  of  cotton  sufficient  to  belt  our  globe  twenty 
times  round  at  the  equator!  And  Eli  Whitney  was 
the  Chief  Magician  who  brought  this  about. 

At  the  time  I  speak  of,  his  Gun-factory,  two  miles 
north  of  New  Haven,  was  the  great  curiosity  of  the 
neighborhood.  Indeed,  people  traveled  fifty  miles  to 
see  it.  I  think  it  employed  about  a  hundred  men. 
It  was  symmetrically  built  in  a  wild  romantic  spot, 
near  the  foot  of  East  Eock,  and  had  a  cheerful,  taste 
ful  appearance — like  a  small  tidy  village.  We  visited 
it  of  course,  and  my  admiration  was  excited*  to  the 
utmost.  What  a  bound  did  my  ideas  make  in  me 
chanics,  from  the  operations  of  the  penknife,  to  this 
miracle  of  machinery !  It  was,  at  the  time,  wholly 

America.  In  1802,  the  first  cotton  factory  was  erected  in  New  Hampshire. 
In  1804,  the  first  power-loom  was  introduced  at  Waltham  ;  in  1822,  the 
first  cotton  factory  was  built  at  Lowell.  The  cotton  manufactures  of 
the  United  States  now  amount  to  sixty-five  millions  of  dollars  a  year  ! 

In  1789,  about  one  million  pounds  of  cotton  were  produced  in  the  Uni 
ted  States;  in  1792,  Whitney  perfected  his  gin  for  cleaning  cotton;  in 
1810,  the  United  States  produced  eighty-five  millions  pounds  of  cotton: 
in  1820,  one  hundred  and  sixty  millions;  in  1830,  three  hundred  and 
fifty  millions  ;  in  1855,  probably  fourteen  hundred  millions.  The  Uni 
ted  States  are  now  the  chief  cotton  producers  for  the  world. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  367 

engaged  in  manufacturing  muskets  for  the  govern 
ment.  Mr.  Whitney  was  present,  and  showed  us 
over  the  place,  explaining  the  various  processes. 
Every  part  of  the  weapons  was  made  by  machinery, 
and  so  systematized  that  any  lock  or  stock  would  fit 
any  barrel.  All  this,  which  may  seem  no  wonder 
now,  was  remarkable  at  the  time,  there  being  no  sim 
ilar  establishment  in  the  country.  Among  other 
things,  we  here  saw  the  original  model  of  the  Cotton- 
gin,*  upon  which  Mr.  Whitney's  patent  was  founded. 

*  Eli  Whitney  was  born  at  Westborough,  Mass.,  in  1765,  of  parents  in 
the  middle  ranks  of  life.  He  showed  an  early  propensity  to  mechan 
ics,  first  making  a  very  good  fiddle,  and  then  mending  fiddles  for  the 
neighborhood.  He  once  got  his  father's  watch,  aud  slily  took  it  to 
pieces,  but  contrived  to  put  it  together  again,  BO  as  not  to  be  detected. 
At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  made  a  table-knife  to  match  the  set,  one  of 
which  had  been  broken.  During  the  Kevolutionary  war  he  took  to  nail- 
making,  nails  being  very  scarce,  and  made  a  profitable  business  of  it.  He 
then  made  long  pins  for  ladies'  bonnets,  walking-canes,  &c.  At  the  age 
ot'  nineteen  he  began  to  think  of  college,  and  surmounting  various  obsta 
cles,  entered  Yale  in  1789,  having  been  fitted  in  part  by  Dr.  Goodrich, 
of  Durham.  In  college  he  displayed  great  vividness  of  imagination  in 
his  compositions,  with  striking  mechanical  talent — mending,  on  a  cer 
tain  occasion,  some  philosophical  apparatus,  greatly  to  the  satisfaction 
and  surprise  of  the  Faculty.  • 

In  1792  he  went  to  Georgia,  as  teacher  in  the  family  of  Mr.  B . . . . 
On  his  arrival,  he  found  that  the  place  was  supplied;  happily  he  fell 
under  the  kind  care  and  patronage  of  Mrs.  Greene,  widow  of  Gen.  G. 
Hearing  the  planters  lament  that  there  was  no  way  of  separating  cotton 
from  the  seed  but  by  hand,  and  that  it  took  a  slave  a  whole  day  to  clean 
a  pound,  he  set  privately  to  work,  and  after  a  time  produced  his  gin, 
which  was  to  make  such  a  revolution  in  the  world.  In  this  process,  he 
was  obliged  to  make  his  own  wire.  On  disclosing  his  discovery,  the 
planters  saw  at  once  the  vast  field  of  enterprise  open  to  them.  Whitney 
took  immediate  steps  to  secure  a  patent,  and  made  arrangements  to  man 
ufacture  gins,  but  a  series  of  misfortunes  and  discouragements  defeated 
him.  The  history  of  his  career  at  this  period  is  a  melancholy  story  of 
efforts  baffled,  hopes  disappointed,  and  engagements  violated,  disclo 
sing  the  most  shameful  wrongs  and  outrages  on  the  part  of  Individ- 


368  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER  XXIII, 

Durham— History  of  Connecticut- -Distinguished  Families  of  Durham-- 
Tho  Chau.nceys,  Wadsworths,  Lymans,  Goodriches,  Austins,  dkc. —  Wood,- 
bury — How  Romance  becomes  History — Rev.  Noah  Benedict  —  Judge 
Smith. 

MY  DKAK  C****** 

Having  spent  about  a.  week  at  New  Haven,  we 
proceeded  to  Durham,  an  old-fashioned,  sleepy  town 
of  a  thousand  inhabitants.  Its  history  lies  chiefly  in 
the  remarkable  men  it  has  produced — the  Chaun- 

Vila,  and  even  of  courts  and  legislatures.  He  instituted  sixty  suits  in 
Georgia  for  violations  of  his  rights,  and  was  not  able  to  get  a  single  de 
cision  until  thirteen  years  from  the  commencement !  Thus,  in  fact,  tho 
great  benefactor  of  the  cotton  interest  of  the  South,  only  derived  years 
of  misery  and  vexation  from  his  invention. 

In  1798,  through  the  influence  of  Oliver  Wolcott,  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury,  he  obtained  a  contract  for  the  manufacture  of  arms  for  the 
United  States,  and  then  established  his  factory  at  Whitneyville.  He 
was  eight  years  in  producing  ten  thousand  pieces.  At  length,  however, 
his  measures  being  completed,  his  establishment  was  one  of  the  most 
perfect  in  the  world,  and  the  arms  he  provided  were  probably  the  best 
then  made  in  any  country. 

In  1822,  he  applied  for  a  renewal  of  his  patent  for  the  cotton-gin.  It 
was  estimated  that  the  value  of  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars  had  then 
been  added  to  the  lands  of  the  South  by  tliis  invention,  while  he  had 
reaped  only  sorrow  and  embarrassment ;  yet  he  failed,  most  of  the 
southern  members  of  Congress  opposing  his  request ! 

In  1817,  he  married  a  daughter  of  the  celebrated  Pierpont  Edwards, 
Jndge  of  the  District  Court  for  the  State  of  Connecticut.  In  1822,  he 
was  attacked  witli  disease,  which  terminated  his  career  in  1825.  His 
character,  like  life  life,  was  remarkable :  though  a  refined  scholar,  he 
was  a  skillful  mechanic — no  man  in  his  shop  being  able  to  handle  tools 
more  dexterously  than  himself:  though  possessing  a  fine  imagination, 
and  a  keen  inventive  faculty,  he  had  a  perseverance  in  pursuing  his 
plans  to  completion,  that  nothing  could  arrest.  He  was  at  once  ener 
getic  and  systematic;  dignified,  yet  courteous  ;  large  in  his  views,  yet 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  36'J 

ceys,*  celebrated  in  the  literary,  clerical,  official,  and 
professional  annals  of  New  England,  and  I  may  add, 
of  the  country  at  large ;  the  Wadsworths,  no  less 
noted  in  various  commanding  stations,  military  and 
civil,  public  and  private  ;  the  Lymans,  renowned  in 
the  battle-field,  the  college,  the  pulpit,  and  the  sen 
ate  ;  the  Austins — father  and  son — to  whose  talent 
and  enterprise  Texas  owes  her  position  as  a  member 
of  this  Union. 


precise  in  detail ;  a  profound  thinker,  and  scrutinizing  nature  and  its 
phenomena  with  amazing  depth  of  thought,  yet  coming  at  last  with  the 
docility  of  a  child  to  the  Christian's  confession — "  I  am  a  sinner,  may 
God  have  mercy  upon  me !" 

*  Whoever  would  understand  the  true  history  of  Connecticut,  should 
not  confine  his  reading  to  general  works  on  this  subject,  but  should 
look  into  the  local  histories  and  genealogical  memoranda  of  towns  and 
villages,  of  which  there  are  now  agreat  number.  A  good  collection  may 
be  found  in  the  Library  of  the  Hartford  Athenenrn.  If  any  one  desires 
to  know  the  annals  of  Durham,  let  him  read  the  sermon  delivered  by 
Professor  W.  C.  Fowler  at  that  place,  Dec.  29,  1847,  and  printed  at 
Araherst,  Mass.,  1848.  The  notes  will  prove  a  revelation,  not  of  history 
only,  but  of  something  like  romance.  The  number  of  great  men  pro 
ceeding  from  this  small  town,  in  times  past,  is  not  only  striking  but 
instructive,  as  it  suggests  and  illustrates  the  manner  in  which  Connec 
ticut  has  exerted  a  powerful  influence  upon  this  country — the  United 
States — I  might  even  say  upon  this  continent.  Among  the  families  of 
Durham,  noticed  by  Professor  Fowler,  are  the  following  : 

The  Chauneeys. — Nathaniel  Chauncey,  grandson  of  President  Chaun- 
ccy,  of  Harvard  College,  was  born  at  Hatfield,  Mass.,  1681,  was  gradu 
ated  at  Yale  in  1702 — belonging  to  the  first  class  that  graduated  in  that 
college,  all  of  whom  became  ministers.  He  was  ordained  at  Durham  in 
1711,  and  died  there  1756.  His  son,  Elihu  Chauncey,  lived  in  Durham, 
and  was  a  man  of  high  character  and  large  influence.  His  daughter, 
Catherine,  married  Dr.  Goodrich,  who  was  my  grandfather.  His  son, 
Charles  Chauncey,  settled  at  New  Haven,  and  was  a  man  of  extensive 
learning  and  great  ability.  He  became  attorney-general  of  the  State 
and  judge  of  the  Superior  Court.  He  received  the  title  of  LL.  D.  from 
the  college  at  MMdlebury ;  and  died  1823.  Among  his  children  were 
<  'hurles  Chauncoy,  LL.D..  distinguished  MS  an  cminci.t  lawver  and  re- 

16* 


370  LKTTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

To  this  list  of  remarkable  names,  I  trust  I  may  add 
that  of  the  Goodriches,  without  the  imputation  of 
egotism,  for  historical  justice  demands  it.  At  the 
time  I  visited  the  place,  nearly  all  the  family  had 
long  since  left  it.  My  grandfather — Dr.  Goodrich — 
died  in  1797,  but  my  grandmother  was  living,  as 
well  as  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Smith,  wife  of  Rev.  David 
Smith,  the  clergyman  of  the  place,  who  had  succeed 
ed  to  my  grandfather's  pulpit. 

I  had  never  any  great  fancy  for  genealogies,  so  I 
did  not  study  the  broad-spreading  tree  of  the  family, 
its  roots  running  back  to  the  time  of  Godric  the  Saxon 
— the  great  Adam  of  the  race — as  is  duly  set  forth 


fined  gentleman,  settled  at  Philadelphia,  and  died  1349 ;  Elihu  Chnnn- 
cey,  a  distinguished  merchant  of  Philadelphia,  died  1847.  Many  others, 
descendants  of  the  Durham  Chaunceys,  attained  distinction. 

The  Wadxworths. — Among  the  Durham  Wadsworths,  were  the  follow 
ing  :  Col.  James,  from  Farmington,  born  1675,  filled  various  offices,  civil 
and  military,  and  was  much  honored  and  respected  in  his  time.  Gen 
eral  James  Wadsworth,  grandson  of  the  preceding,  became  major- 
general  and  member  of  Congress  during  the  Revolutionary  war,  died 
1*17,  aged  87.  James  Wadsworth,  nephew  of  the  preceding,  born  17(53, 
founded  the  great  Wadsworth  estate  in  western  New  York,  and  distin 
guished  himself  by  his  successful  labors  in  behalf  of  school  education  : 
lie  died  1844.  Other  members  of  this  branch  of  the  family  have  reached 
high  and  honored  celebrity. 

The  Lymans. — Phineas  Lyrnan,  born  at  Durham,  1716,  became  major- 
general  ;  gained  the  victory  at  Lake  George,  in  the  French  and  Indian 
war,  for  Gen.  William  Johnson  (who  received  five  thousand  pounds 
and  a  baronetcy  therefor),  and  performed  various  other  military  exploits. 
Jle  projected  a  settlement  in  the  Southwest,  and  died  in  West  Florida, 
1775.  The  history  of  his  family  is  full  of  tragic  interest.  Other  mem- 
bi-rs  of  the  family  were  distinguished. 

The  Goodrichw. — See  Fowler's  notes,  above  mentioned ;  also  Hollis- 
ter's  History  of  Connecticut,  vol.  ii.  pp.  684,  etc. 

The  Austins.-  -For  this  remarkable  fumilv.  consult  also  Fowler's  notes. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  371 

in  King  William's  Doomsday-Book.  Two  old  bache 
lors  of  the  place — a  little  quaint  and  starch,  but  studi 
ously  polite  and  very  gentleman-like,  with  a  splendid 
farm,  and  a  house  embellished  with  old  oak  carvings 
— told  me  something  about  it,  and  made  it  out,  by  a 
long  chain  of  links,  that  I  was  their  great,  great,  double 
cousin ;  that  is,  on  my  mother's,  as  well  as  my  father's 
side.  My  grandmother  also  explained  to  me,  that 
somewhere  since  the  building  of  Babel,  her  family  was 
blent  with  the  Griswolds,  whence  I  got  my  middle 
name — in  token  of  which  she  gave  me  a  reverend 
silver-headed  cane,  marked  I.  G.,  that  is,  John  Gris- 
wold,  who  was  her  great-grandfather.  Of  course,  I 
have  piously  kept  this  antediluvian  relic  to  the  pres 
ent  day. 

I  trust  I  have  all  due  respect  for  this  my  little,  fat, 
paternal  grandmother,  and  who  has  already,  by  the 
way,  been  introduced  to  your  notice.  She  was  now 
quite  lame,  having  broken  her  leg  some  years  before, 
and  appeared  to  me  shorter  than  ever ; '  nevertheless, 
she  was  active,  energetic,  and  alive  to  every  thing  that 
was  passing.  She  welcomed  me  heartily,  and  took 
'he  best  care  of  me  in  the  world — lavishing  upon  me, 

without  stint,  all  the  treasures  of  her  abundant  larder. 

Vs  to  her  Indian  puddings — alas,  I  shall  never  see 
-heir  like  again !  A  comfortable  old  body  she  was  in 
all  things — and  as  I  have  before  remarked,  took  a 
special  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  generation  of 
descendants  risinsr  UD  around  her.  When  she  saw 


.',  i  3  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

me  eating  with  a  good  appetite,  her  benignant  grand 
motherly  face  beamed  like  a  lantern. 

She  was  a  model  housekeeper,  and  as  such  had  great 
administrative  talents.  Every  thing  went  right  in  the 
household,  the  garden,  the  home  lot,  the  pasture,  and 
the  little  farm.  The  hens  laid  lots  of  large  fresh 
eggs,  the  cows  gave  abundance  of  milk,  the  pigs  were 
fat  as  butter  ;  the  wood-pile  was  always  full.  There 
was  never  any  agony  about  the  house :  all  was  me 
thodical,  as  if  regulated  by  some  law  of  nature.  The 
tall  old  clock  in  the  entry,  although  an  octogenarian, 
was  still  staunch,  and  ticked  and  struck  with  an  em 
phasis  that  enforced  obedience.  When  it  told  seven 
in  the  morning,  the  breakfast  carne  without  daring  to 
delay  even  for  a  minute.  The  stroke  of  twelve 
brought  the  sun  to  the  noon -mark,  and  dinner  to  the 
table.  The  tea  came  at  six.  At  sunset  on  Saturday 
evening,  the  week's  work  was  done,  and  according  to 
the  Puritan  usage,  the  Sabbath  was  begun.  All  sud 
denly  became  quiet  and  holy.  Even  the  knitting- 
work  was  laid  aside.  Meditation  was  on  every  brow  ; 
the  cat  in  the  corner  sat  with  her  eyes  half  shut,  as 
if  she  too  were  considering  her  ways. 

On  the  morning  of  the  Holy  Day,  all  around  was 
silent.  The  knife  and  fork  were  handled  quietly,  at 
the  table.  The  toilet,  though  sedulously  performed, 
was  made  in  secret.  People  walked  as  if  they  had 
gloves  on  their  shoes.  Inanimate  nature  seemed  to 
know  that  God  rested  on  that  day,  arid  hallowed  it. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  373 

The  birds  put  on  a  Sunday  air :  the  cows  did  not 
low  from  hill  to  hill  as  on  other  days.  The  obstre 
perous  hen  deposited  her  egg,  and  cackled  not.  At 
nine  o'clock,  the  solemn  church  bell  rang,  and  in  the 
universal  stillness,  its  tones  swelled  over  the  village 
like  a  voice  from  above.  At  ten,  the  second  bell 
rang,  and  the  congregation  gathered  in.  There,  in 
the  place  she  had  held  for  forty  years,  was  my  good 
grandmother,  in  rain  and  shine,  in  summer  and  in 
winter.  Though  now  well  stricken  in  years,  and  the 
mother  of  staunch  men — their  names  honored  in  the 
pulpit,  the  senate,  and  at  the  bar — she  still  faltered 
not  in  the  strait  and  narrow  path  of  duty.  She 
was  strong-minded,  and  showed  it  by  a  life  which  ele 
vated,  ennobled,  and  illustrated  the  character  of  the 
mother,  the  wife,  the  woman,  as  she  had  learned  to  re 
gard  it.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  with  what  affectionate 
reverence  the  people  saluted  her,  as  if,  in  addition  to 
the  love  they  bore  her,  she  still  carried  with  her  re 
membrances  of  her  now  almost  worshiped  husband. 
Many  years  she  lived  after  this,  but  she  is  now  num 
bered  with  the  dead.  Let  her  portrait  have  a  place 
in  these  pages  as  a  fine  specimen  of  the  New  England 
wife  of  the  olden  time. 

As  to  my  uncle  and  aunt  Smith,  I  may  remark  that 
they  were  plain,  pious  people,  the  former  worthily  fill 
ing  the  pulpit  of  my  grandfather,  and  enjoying  a  high 
degree  of  respect,  alike  from  his  position  and  charac 
ter.  Besides  attending  to  his  parochial  duties,  he  fit- 


374  LKTTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ted  young  men  for  college.  Among  his  pupils  were 
Samuel  D.  Hubbard,  late  Postmaster-general  of  the 
United  States,  Dr.  Dekay,  the  naturalist,  Commodore 
Dekay,  and  other  persons  who  attained  distinction. 
As  a  man,  he  was  distinguished  for  his  cheerful,  frank, 
friendly  manners:  as  a  preacher,  he  was  practical, 
sincere,  and  successful.  I  must  mention  a  story  of 
him,  among  my  pulpit  anecdotes.  As  sometimes  hap 
pens,  in  a  congregation  of  farmers  during  midsum 
mer,  it  once  chanced  that  a  large  number  of  his  people 
fell  asleep — and  in  the  very  midst  of  the  sermon. 
Even  the  deacons  in  the'  sacramental  seat  had  gone 
cosily  to  the  land  of  Nod.  The  minister  looked  around, 
and  just  at  that  moment,  the  only  person  who  seemed 
quite  awake,  was  his  eldest  son,  David,  sitting  in  the 
minister's  pew  by  the  side  of  the  pulpit.  Pausing  a 
moment  and  looking  down  upon  his  son,  he  exclaim 
ed,  in  a  powerful  voice — 

"  David,  wake  up!" 

In  a  moment  the  whole  congregation  roused  them 
selves,  and  long  did  they  remember  the  rebuke.  In 
after-times,  when,  through  the  temptations  of  the 
devil  and  the  weakness  of  the  flesh,  during  s.ermon- 
time,  their  sight  became  drowsy,  and  dreams  floated 
softly  over  their  eyelids,  then  would  come  to  mind  the 
ominous  sound,  "  David,  wake  up  !"  and  starting  from 
their  slumbers,  they  would  shake  themselves,  and  fix 
their  eyes  on  the  preacher,  and  wrestle  with  their  in 
firmities  like  Jacob — sometimes,  though  not  always, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  375 

prevailing  like  Israel.  I  need  only  add  in  respect  to 
this  excellent  old  gentleman,  that  he  is  still  living,  at 
the  age  of  eighty-nine,  and  last  year  (1855)  preached 
at  the  capitol  in  "Washington  to  an  attentive  and  grat 
ified  audience. 

During  our  stay  of  two  or  three  weeks  at  Durham, 
my  brother-in-law  was  so  ill  as  to  need  the  advice 
of  a  skillful  physician.  Accordingly  I  was  dispatch 
ed  on  horseback  to  Middletown,  a  distance  of  eight 
or  ten  miles,  for  Dr.  O  .  . . .,  then  famous  in  all  the 
country  round  about.  On  my  way  I  met  a  man  of 
weather-beaten  complexion  and  threadbare  garments, 
mounted  on  a  lean  and  jaded  mare.  Beneath  him 
was  a  pair  of  plump  saddlebags.  He  had  all  the 
marks  of  a  doctor,  for  then  men  of  this  profession 
traversed  the  country  on  horseback,  carrying  with 
them  a  collection  of  pills,  powders,  and  elixirs,  equiv 
alent  to  an  apothecarj^s  shop.  A  plain  instinct  told 
me  that  he  was  my  man.  As  I  was  about  to  pass 
him,  I  drew  in  my  breath,  to  ask  if  he  were  Dr. 
O  . . . .,  but  a  sudden  bashfulness  seized  me  :  the  pro 
pitious  moment  passed,  and  I  went  on. 

On  arriving  at  the  house  of  Dr.  O ,  I  learned 

that  he  had  gone  to  a  village  in  the  southwestern 
part  of  the  town,  six  or  eight  miles  off.  "  There!" 
said  I  to  myself,  "  I  knew  it  was  he :  if  I  had  only 
spoken  to  him !"  However,  reflection  was  vain.  I 
followed  to  the  designated  spot,  and  there  I  found 
that  he  had  left  about  half  an  hour  before,  for  another 


376  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

village  in  the  central  part  of  the  town.  I  gave  chase, 
but  he  was  too  quick  for  me,  so  that  I  was  obliged 
to  return  to  Durham  without  him.  "  Ah !"  I  thought, 
"how  much  trouble  a  little  courage  would  have  saved 
me  !"  In  fact,  I  took  the  incident  fo  heart,  and  have 
often  practiced  to  advantage  upon  the  lesson  it  sug 
gested,  which  is,  never  to  let  a  doctor,  or  any  thing 
else,  slip,  for  the  want  of  asking  an  opportune  ques 
tion. 

This  Dr.  O  .  . .  .  made  several  visits  to  Durham,  and 
I  remember  to  have  heard  my  brother-in-law  once 
ask  him  whether  he  was  a  Brunonian*  or  a  Cullenite  ; 
to  which  he  replied,  smartly — "  Sir,  I  am  a  doctor 

*  About  this  time,  the  "  spotted  fever"  appeared  along  the  Connec 
ticut  river,  and  a  change  in  the  general  character  of  fevers  took  place, 
there  being  now  a  tendency  to  typhoid,  instead  of  inflammatory,  symp 
toms,  as  had  been  the  case  before.  These  circumstances  embarrassed  and 
baffled  the  profession.  In  general,  however,  they  followed  their  procliv 
ities,  and  either  physicked  or  stimulated,  as  their  doctrines  dictated.  In 
point  of  fact,  one  practice  killed  and  cured  about  as  well  as  the  other. 
At  all  events,  the  plague  raged  for  some  years  at  certain  places  and  at 
particular  seasons,  and  thus  society  was  wrought  into  a  state  of  frenzy 
upon  the  two  modes  of  treatment.  At  a  somewhat  later  date — about 
1812— a  family  that  held  to  brandy,  would  hardly  hold  intercourse  with 
another  which  held  to  jalap.  At  Hartford,  Doctors  Todd  und  Welles, 
who  stimulated,  were  looked  upon  as  little  better  than  infidels  by 
those  who  believed  in  Dr.  Bacon  and  purgatives.  These  divisions  even 
caught  the  hues  of  political  parties,  and  alcohol  became  democratic, 
while  depletion  was  held  to  be  fe.deral.  In  the  end  it  proved  that  botli 
systems  were  right  and  both  wrong — to  a  certain  extent.  Experience 
showed  that  the  true  mode  of  practice  was  to  treat  each  case  according 
to  its  symptoms.  The  fitness  of  a  physician  for  his  profession,  was, 
under  these  circumstances,  manifested  by  the  sagacity  with  which  he 
found  his  way  out  of  the  woods.  Dr.  O  .  .  . .  was  one  of  those  who,  at 
an  early  stage  of  the  difficulty,  being  a  doctor  himself,  that  is.  being  gui 
ded  by  good  sense,  and  not  by  slavery,  to  a  system — arrived  at  the  true 
mode  of  practice. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    KTC.  3  7  i 

myself!"  The  pith  of  this  answer  will  be  felt,  when 
it  is  known  that  at  this  period,  and  indeed  for  some 
years  after,  there  was  a  schism  in  the  medical  profes 
sion  of  this  region,  which  became  divided  into  two 
parties  ;  one  of  them  adopting  the  theory  and  prac 
tice  of  John  Brown,*  that  life  is  a  forced  state,  de 
pending  upon  stimuli,  and  hence  that  disease  and 
death  are  to  be  constantly  combated  by  stimulants. 
According  to  this  theory,  even  certain  fevers  were  to 
be  treated  with  brandy,  and  in  extreme  cases,  with  a 
tincture  of  Spanish  flies — internally  administered! 
The  other  followed  the  theory  of  Cullen,  who  adopt 
ed  the  opposite  practice  of  purgatives  and  depletion, 
more  especially  in  fevers.  A  real  frenzy  ensued,  and 

*  John  Brown  was  born  at  Dunse,  Scotland,  1735.  He  studied  med 
icine  with  Cullen,  then  the  leading  man  of  the  profession  in  Great  Brit 
ain.  After  a  time  he  produced  his  Elements  of  Medicine,  in  Latin,  de 
signed  to  overthrow  the  system  which  Cullen  had  produced.  Its  general 
doctrine,  as  stated  above,  was  that  life  is  a  forced  state,  only  sustained 
by  the  action  of  external  agents  operating  upon  the  body,  every  part  of 
which  is  furnished  with  a  certain  amount  of  excitability.  He  discarded 
all  drugs,  and  confined  himself  to  alcohol — wine,  brandy,  &c. — for  one 
set  of  diseases,  and  opium  for  the  opposite  set.  The  simplicity  of  the 
doctrine  and  the  ability  with  which  it  was  set  forth,  gave  it  for  a  time 
a  fatal  currency,  not  only  in  Europe  but  in  America.  The  celebrated 
Dr.  Beddoes,  among  others,  adopted  and  propagated  it.  The  system, 
however,  after  a  time,  fell  into  disrepute.  Brown  died  in  1788,  a  victim 
of  intemperance,  probably  the  result  of  his  medical  system. 

William  Cullen  was  born  in  Lanarkshire,  Scotland,  1712,  and  having 
studied  medicine,  he  practiced  with  credit  at  Glasgow.  In  1756,  he  be 
came  Professor  of  Chemistry  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  where  he 
greatly  distinguished  himself.  In  1763,  he  succeeded  Dr.  Alston  as 
Professor  of  Medicine.  As  a  teacher,  his  popularity  was  unbounded. 
His  personal  character  was  distinguished  for  amiableness  and  purity : 
his  medical  works  for  a  time  exercised  a  powerful  influence,  and  he  is 
still  regarded  as  having  greatly  advanced  the  science  of  medicine,  though 
some  of  his  theories  have  been  modified  and  others  rejected. 


378  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

the  medical  profession,  as  well  as  society,  were  in 
volved  in  a  sort  of  temporary  insanity. 

At  length  we  departed  from  Durham,  and  took 
our  way  homeward,  through  a  series  of  small  towns, 
arriving  at  last  at  Woodbury.  Here  we  remained  a 
week  or  ten  days,  being  hospitably  entertained  by 
the  Rev.  Noah  Benedict,  my  brother-in-law's  uncle. 
He  lived  in  a  large,  low,  old-fashioned  house,  embow 
ered  in  elms,  and  having  about  it  an  air  of  antiquity, 
comfort,  and  repose.  He  was  himself  very  aged, 
nearly  eighty  years  old,  I  should  judge.  He  was, 
like  my  own  lineage,  of  the  orthodox  faith,  and 
sometimes  officiated  in  his  pulpit,  though  he  had  now 
a  colleague.  I  need  not  describe  him,  further  than  to 
say  that  he  was  a  fine  old  man,  greatly  beloved  by 
his  parish,  and  almost  adored  by  his  immediate  con 
nections.  Close  by,  in  a  sumptuous  house,  lived 
his  son,  Noah  B.  Benedict,  then  a  leading  lawyer  of 
the  State.  Half  a  mile  to  the  south,  in  an  antique, 
gable-roofed  mansion,  dwelt  his  daughter,  the  wife  of 
Nathaniel  Smith,  one  of  the  judges  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  and  regarded  as  the  intellectual  giant  of  his 
time.  I  have  good  reason  to  remember  the  place,  for 
it  is  now  the  home  of  one  of  my  sisters,  who  married, 
many  years  later,  the  only  child  of  its  founder — long 
since  gathered  to  his  fathers. 

The  week  of  our  sojourn  at  Woodbury  flew  on 
golden  wings  •*  ith  me.  The  village  itself  was  after 
my  own  Leav^  It  lies  in  a  small  tranquil  valley,  its 


HISTORICAL,  ANECnOTIC.VT,,  ETC.  379 

western  boundary  consisting  of  a  succession  of  gentle 
acclivities,  covered  with  forests ;  that  on  the  east  is 
formed  of  basaltic  ledges,  broken  into  wild  and  pic 
turesque  forms,  rising  sharp  and  hard  against  the  hori 
zon.  Through  the  valley,  in  long  serpentine  sweeps, 
flows  a  stream,  clear  and  bright — now  dashing  and 
now  sauntering  ;  here  presenting  a  rapid  and  there  a 
glassy  pool.  In  ancient  times  it  was  bordered  by 
cities  of  the  beaver ;  it  was  now  the  haunt  of  a  few 
isolated  and  persecuted  muskrats.  In  the  spring  and 
autumn,  the  wild-ducks,  in  their  migrations,  often 
stooped  to  its  bosom  for  a  night's  lodging.  At  all 
seasons  it  was  renowned  for  its  trout.  In  former 
ages,  when  the  rivers,  protected  by  the  deep  forests, 
ran  full  to  the  brim,  and  when  the  larger  streams 
were  filled  to  repletion  with  shad  and  salmon,  this 
was  sometimes  visited  by  enterprising  individuals  of 
their  race,  which  shot  up  cataracts,  and  leaped  over 
obstructing  rocks,  roots,  and  mounds,  impelled  by  an 
imperious  instinct  to  seek  places  remote  from  the  sea, 
where  they  might  deposit  in  safety  the  seeds  of  their 
future  progeny.  In  those  days,  I  imagine,  the  acci 
dents  and  incidents  of  shad  and  salmon  life,  often 
rivaled  the  adventurous  annals  of  Marco  Polo  or  Rob 
inson  Crusoe. 

There  was,  in  good  sooth,  about  this  little  village, 
a  singular  .union  of  refinement  and  rusticity,  of  cul 
tivated  plain  and  steepling  rock,  of  blooming  meadow 
and  dusky  forest.  The  long,  wide  street,  saving  the 


380  LKTTKRS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

highway  and  a  few  stray  paths,  here  and  there,  was 
a  bright,  grassy  lawn,  decorated  with  abundance  of 
sugar-maples,  which  appeared  to  have  found  their 
Paradise.*  Such  is  the  shape  of  the  encircling  hills 
and  ledges  that  the  site  of  the  village  seems  a  sort  of 
secluded  Happy  Valley,  where  every  thing  turns  to 
poetry  and  romance.  And  this  aptitude  is  abundantly 
encouraged  by  history — for  here  was  once  the  favored 
home  of  a  tribe  of  Indians.  All  around — the  rivers, 
the  hills,  the  forests — are  still  rife  with  legends  and 

0 

remembrances  of  the  olden  time.  A  rocky  mound, 
rising  above  the  river  on  one  side,  and  dark  forests  on 
the  other,  bears  the  name  of  "  Pomperaug's  Castle ;" 
a  little  to  the  north,  near  a  bridle-path  that  traversed 
the  meadows,  was  a  heap  of  stones,  called  "  Pompe 
raug's  Grave."  To  the  east  I  found  a  wild  ledge, 
called  Bethel  Bock.f  And  each  of  these  objects  has 


*  The  street  of  Woodbury  continues  to  that  of  Southbury,  the  two 
united  being  three  miles  in  length.  These  are  decorated  by  a  double 
line  of  sugar-maples — certainly  one  of  the  most  beautiful  exhibitions  of 
the  kind  I  have  ever  seen. 

t  Woodbury  is  alike  historical  and  legendary  ground.  Its  names 
trace  out  its  story.  Quassapaug  Lake,  Shepaug  River,  Quanopaug  Falls, 
Nonnewaug  Falls,  tell  us  of  its  original  proprietors :  Rattlesnake  Rock, 
and  White  Deer  Hills,  bespeak  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  the  forest: 
Bethel  Rock,  Carmel  Hill,  and  Tophet  Hollow,  announce  the,arrival  here 
of  the  Pilgrim  settlers  from  New  Haven:  Hall's  Rock,  Good  Hill,  Light 
ing's  Playground,  Scuppo,  Hazel  Plain,  Moose  Horn  Hill,  Ash  Swamp, 
all  in  Woodbury  or  the  vicinity,  indicate  alike  certain  traits  of  scenery, 
with  the  final  settlement  of  the  country  by  the  English.  The  remark 
able  men  that  have  originated  in  this  town  within  the  last  century,  pre 
sent  a  marvellous  record  of  ability,  patriotism,  and  piety.  My  imagina 
tion  was  greatly  excited  by  the  legends  I  heard  when  I  first  visited 
Woodbury,  and  some  years  after  (1828)  I  wrote  and  published  in  the 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  381 

its  story.  How  suggestive — how  full  of  imaginings 
was  Woodbury  to  me,  when  I  visited  it,  five  and  forty 
years  ago  !  And  the  woods,  teeming  with  the  smaller 
game — the  gray-squirrel,  the  partridge,  and  quail,  my 
old  West  Mountain  acquaintances — with  what  delight 
did  I  traverse  them,  gun  in  hand,  accompanied  by  a 

Legendary  at  Boston,  the  following  story,  which  has  now  become  almost 
historical : 

THE  LEGEND  OF  BETHEL  EOCK. 

"  In  the  picturesque  state  of  Connecticut,  there  is  not  a  spot  more 
beautiful  than  the  village  of  Pomperaug.  It  is  situated  not  very  far 
from  the  western  border  of  the  state,  and  derives  its  name  from  a 
tribe  of  Indians,  who  once  inhabited  it.  It  presents  a  small,  but  level 
valley,  surrounded  by  hills,  with  a  bright  stream  rippling  through  its 
meadows.  The  tops  of  the  high  grounds  which  skirt  the  valley,  are 
covered  with  forests,  but  the  slopes  are  smooth  with  cultivation,  nearly 
to  their  summits.  In  the  time  of  verdure,  the  plain  displays  a  vividness 
of  green  like  that  of  velvet,  while  the  forests  are  dark  with  the  rich 
hues  supposed  to  be  peculiar  to  the  climate  of  England. 

"  The  village  of  Pomperaug  consists  now  of  about  two  hundred 
houses,  with  three  white  churches,  arranged  on  a  street  which  passes 
along  the  eastern  margin  of  the  valley.  At  the  distance  of  about  twenty 
rods  from  this  street,  and  running  parallel  to  it  for  nearly  a  mile,  is  a 
rock,  or  ledge  of  rocks,  of  considerable  elevation.  From  this,  a  distinct 
survey  of  the  place  may  be  had,  almost  at  a  glance.  Beginning  at  the 
village,  the  spectator  may  count  every  house,  and  measure  every  garden ; 
he  may  compare  the  three  churches,  which  now  seem  drawn  close  to 
gether  ;  he  may  trace  the  winding  path  of  the  river  by  the  trees  which 
bend  over  its  waters  ;  he  may  enumerate  the  white  farm-houses  which 
dot  the  surface  of  the  valley ;  he  may  repose  his  eye  on  the  checkered 
carpet  which  lies  unrolled  before  him,  or  it  may  climb  to  the  horizon 
over  the  dark  blue  hills  which  form  the  border  of  this  enchanting 
picture. 

"  The  spot  which  we  have  thus  described  did  not  long  lie  concealed 
from  the  prying  sagacity  of  the  first  settlers  of  the  colony  of  New 
Haven.  Though  occupied  by  a  tribe  of  savages,  as  before  intimated,  it 
was  very  early  surveyed  by  more  than  one  of  the  emigrants.  In  the 
general  rising  of  the  Indians  in  Philip's  war,  this  tribe  took  part  with 
the  Pequods,  and  a  large  portion  of  them  shared  in  their  destruction. 
The  chief  himself  was  killed.  His  son,  still  a  boy,  with  a  remnant  of 
his  father's  people,  who  had  been  driven  inte  exile,  returned  to  their 


382  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

black-eyed  stripling,  now   my   respected  and  gray- 
haired  brother-in-law  I 

It  was  a  great  time,  that  happy  week,  for  be  it  re 
membered  that  for  a  whole  year  I  had  been  impris 
oned  in  a  country  store.  What  melody  was  there 
in  the  forest  echoes,  then  !  Ah  !  I  have  since  heard 

native  valley,  and  lived  for  a  time  on  terms  of  apparent  submission  to 
the  English. 

"  The  period  had  now  arrived  when  the  young  chief  had  reached  the 
age  of  manhood.  He  took,  as  was  the  custom  with  his  fathers,  the 
name  of  his  tribe,  and  was  accordingly  called  Pomperaug.  He  was 
tall,  finely  formed,  with  an  eye  that  gleamed  like  the  flashes  of  a  dia 
mond.  He  wus  such  a  one  as  the  savage  would  look  upon  with  idola 
try.  His  foot  was  swift  as  that  of  the  deer;  his  arrow  was  sure  as 
the  pursuit  of  the  eagle;  his  sagacity  penetrating  as  the  light  of  the  sun. 

"Such  was  Pomperaug.  But  his  nation  was  passing  away;  scarce 
fifty  of  his  own  tribe  now  dwelt  in  the  valley  in  which  his  fathers  had 
hunted  for  ages.  The  day  of  their  dominion  had  gone.  There  was  a 
spell  over  the  Dark  Warrior.  The  Great  Spirit  had  sealed  his  doom. 
So  thought  the  remaining  Indians  in  the  valley  of  Pomperaug,  and  they 
sullenly  submitted  to  a  fate  which  they  could  not  avert. 

"  It  was  therefore  without  resistance,  and,  indeed,  with  expressions 
of  amity,  that  they  received  a  small  company  of  English  settlers  into 
the  valley.  This  company  consisted  of  about  thirty  persons,  from  the 
New  Haven  colony,  under  the  spiritual  charge  of  the  Rev.  Noah  Beni- 
Bon.  He  was  a  man  of  great  age,  but  still  of  uncommon  mental  and 
bodily  vigor.  His  years  had  passed  the  bourne  of  threescore  and  ten, 
and  his  hair  was  white  as  snow.  But  his  tall  and  broad  form  was  yet 
erect,  and  his  cane  of  smooth  hickory,  with  a  golden  head,  was  evidently 
a  thing  '  more  of  ornament  than  use.' 

"  Mr.  Benison  had  brought  with  him  the  last  remnant  of  his  family. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  his  only  son,  who,  with  his  wife,  had  slept 
many  years  in  the  tomb.  Her  name  was  Mary,  and  well  might  she  be 
the  object  of  all  the  earthly  affections  which  still  beat  in  the  bosom  of 
one  whom  death  had  made  acquainted  with  sorrow,  and  who  but  for 
her  had  been  left  alone. 

"  Mary  Benison  was  now  seventeen  years  of  age.  She  had  received 
her  education  in  England,  and  had  been  but  a  few  months  in  America. 
She  was  tall  and  slender,  with  a  dark  eye,  full  of  soul  and  sincerity. 
Her  hair  was  of  a  glossy  black,  parted  upon  a  forehead  of  ample  and 
expressive  beauty.  When  at  rest,  her  appearance  wus  not  striking' 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  383 

Catalan!  and  Garcia  and  Pasta  and  Sontag  and  Grisi. 
I  have  even  heard  the  Swedish  nightingale  ;  nay,  in 
France  and  Italy — the  very  home  of  music  and  song 
-  -I  have  listened  to  the  true  nightingale,  which  has 
given  to  Jenny  Lind  her  sweetest  and  most  appro 
priate  epithet ;  but  never,  in  one  or  all,  have  I  heard 

but  if  she  spoke  or  moved,  she  fixed  the  attention  of  every  beholder 
by  the  dignity  of  her  air,  blent  vrith  a  tone  of  tender,  yet  serious  senti 
ment. 

"  The  settlers  had  been  in  the  valley  but  a  few  months,  when  some 
matter  of  business  relative  to  a  purchase  of  land,  brought  Fornperaug  to 
the  hut  of  Mr.  Benison.  It  was  a  bright  morning  in  autumn,  and  while 
he  was  talking  with  the  old  gentleman  at  the  door,  Mary,  who  had  been 
gathering  flowers  in  the  woods,  passed  by  them  and  entered  the  place. 
The  eye  of  the  young  Indian  followed  her  with  a  gaze  of  entrancement. 
His  face  gleamed  as  if  he  had  seen  a  vision  of  more  than  earthly  beauty , 
But  this  emotion  was  visible  only  for  a  moment.  With  the  habitual 
self-command  of  a  savage,  he  turned  again  to  Mr.  Benison,  and  calmly 
pursued  the  subject  which  occasioned  their  meeting. 

"  Pomperaug  went  away,  but  he  carried  the  image  of  Mary  with  him. 
He  retired  to  his  wigwam,  but  it  did  not  please  him.  He  ascended  to  the 
top  of  the  rock,  at  the  foot  of  which  his  wigwam  was  situated,  and  which 
now  goes  under  the  name  of  Pomperaug's  Castle,  and  looked  down 
upon  the  river,  which  was  flashing  in  the  slant  rays  of  the  morning. 
He  turned  away,  and  sent  his  long  gaze  over  the  checkered  leaves  ot 
the  wood,  which,  like  a  sea,  spread  over  the  valley.  He  was  still  dis 
satisfied.  With  a  single  leap  he  sprang  from  the  rock,  and,  alighting 
on  his  feet,  snatched  his  bow  and  took  the  path  which  led  into  the 
forest.  In  a  few  moments  he  came  back,  and,  seating  himself  on  the 
rock,  brooded  for  some  hours  in  silence. 

"  The  next  morning  Pomperaug  repaired  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Benison 
to  finish  the  business  of  the  preceding  day.  He  had  before  signified  an 
inclination  to  accede  to  the  terms  proposed  by  Mr.  Benison,  but  he  now 
started  unexpected  difficulties.  On  being  asked  the  reason,  he  answered 
aa  follows: 

"  '  Listen,  father — hear  a  Eed  Man  speak  !  Look  into  the  air,  and  you 
see  the  eagle.  The  sky  is  his  home,  and  doth,  the  eagle  love  his  home  ? 
Will  he  barter  it  for  the  sea  I  Look  into  the  river,  and  ask  the  fish  that 
is  there,  if  he  will  sell  it?  Go  to  the  dark-skinned  hunter,  and  demand 
of  him  if  he  will  part  with  Ms  forests  ?  Yet,  father,  I  will  part  with  my 
forests,  if  you  will  give  me  the  singing  bird  that  is  in  thy  nest.' 


384  LETTERS — BIOGBAPHICAL, 

such  music  as  filled  my  ears,  that  incense-breathing 
morn,  when  I  made  a  foray  into  the  wilds  of  Wood- 
bury  !  There  was  indeed  no  nightingale  there  :  the 
season  of  wood  minstrelsy  was  passed;  even  the 
thrush  had  descended  from  its  perch  aloft,  and  ceas 
ing  its  melodies,  was  busy  in  the  cares  of  its  young 

"  '  Savage,'  said  the  pilgrim,  with  a  mingled  look  of  disgust  and  in 
dignation,  '  will  the  lamb  lie  down  in  the  den  of  the  wolf?  Never ! 
Dream  not  of  it — I  would  sooner  see  her  die !  Name  it  not.'  As  he 
spoke  he  struck  his  cane  forcibly  on  the  ground,  and  his  broad  figure 
seemed  to  expand  and  grow  taller,  while  his  eye  gleamed,  and  the 
muscles  of  his  brow  contracted  with  a  lowering  and  angry  expression. 
The  change  of  the  old  man's  appearance  was  sudden  and  striking. 
The  air  and  manner  of  the  Indian,  too,  was  changed.  There  was  now  a 
-  kindled  fire  in  his  eye,  a  proud  dignity  in  his  manner,  which  a  moment 
before  was  no,t  there ;  but  these  had  stolen  upon  him,  with  that  imper 
ceptible  progress  by  which  the  dull  colors  of  the  serpent,  when  he  be 
comes  enraged,  are  succeeded  by  the  glowing  hues  of  the  rainbow. 

*'  The  two  now  parted,  and  Pomperaug  would  not  again  enter  into 
any  negotiations  for  a  sale  of  his  lands.  Ho  kept  himself,  indeed,  aloof 
froin  the  English,  and  cultivated  rather  a  hostile  spirit  in  his  people 
toward  them. 

"As  might  have  been  expected,  difficulties  soon  grew  up  between 
the  two  parties,  and  violent  feelings  were  shortly  excited  on  both  sides. 
This  broke  out  into  open  quarrels,  and  one  of  the  white  men  was  shot 
by  a  savage  lurking  in  the  woods.  This  determined  the  settlers  to 
seek  instant  revenge,  and  accordingly  they  followed  the  Indians  into 
the  broken  and  rocky  districts  which  lie  esfit  of  the  valley,  whither,  ex 
pecting  pursuit,  they  had  retreated. 

"It  was  about  an  hour  before  sunset,  when  the  English,  consisting  of 
twenty  well-armed  men,  led  by  their  reverend  pastor,  were  marching 
through  a  deep  ravine,  about  two  milos  east  of  the  town.  The  rocks 
on  either  side  were  lofty,  and  so  narrow  was  the  dell,  that  the  shadows 
of  night  had  already  gathered  over  it.  The  pursuers  had  sought  their 
enemy  the  whole  day  in  vain ;  and  having  lost  all  trace  of  them,  they 
were  now  returning  to  their  homes.  Suddenly  a  wild  yell  burst  from 
the  rocks  at  their  feet,  and  twenty  savages  sprang  up  before  them.  An 
arrow  pierced  the  breast  of  the  pilgrim  leader,  and  he  fell.  Two  In 
dians  were  shot,  and  the  remainder  fled.  Several  of  the  English  were 
wounded,  but  none  mortally,  save  the  aged  pastor. 

"With  mournful  silence  they  bore  back  the  body  of  their  father.     He 


HISTORICAL,    ANKCDOTICAL,    ETC.  ow5 

ones,  now  beginning  life  in  the  bush.  It  was  the  echo 
of  my  own  heart,  that  gave  to  simple  and  familiar 
sounds — that  of  the  far-off  barking  dog,  the  low  of 
distant  herds,  the  swing  of  the  village  bell,  the  mur 
mur  of  the  brooks,  the  rustle  of  the  leaves  in  the 
joyous  breath  of  morning — their  real  melody.  And 


was  buried  in  a  sequestered  nook  of  the  forest,  and  with,  a  desolate  and 
breaking  heart  the  orphan  Mary  turned  away  from  his  grave,  to  be  for 
the  first  time  alone  in  their  humble  house  in  the  wilderness. 
*        *        *        *        * 

"A  year  passed.  The  savages  had  disappeared,  and  the  rock  on 
which  the  pilgrim  met  his  death  had  been  consecrated  by  many  prayers. 
His  blood  was  still  visible  on  the  spot,  and  his  people  often  came  with, 
reverence  to  kneel  there  and  offer  up  their  petitions.  The  place  they 
called  Bethel  Rock,  and  piously  they  deemed  that  their  hearts  were 
visited  here  with  the  richest  gifts  of  heavenly  grace. 

"  It  was  a  sweet  evening  in  summer,  when  Mary  Benison,  for  the  last 
time,  went  to  spend  an  hour  at  this  holy  spot.  Long  had  she  knelt, 
aud  most  fervently  had  she  prayed.  Oh  !  who  can  tell  the  bliss  of  that 
heavenly  communion  to  which  a  pure  heart  is  admitted  in  the  hours  of 
solitude  and  silence  !  The  sun  went  down,  and  as  the  vail  of  evening 
fell,  the  full  moon  climbed  over  the  eastern  ledge,  pouring  its  silver 
light  into  the  valley,  and  Mary  was  still  kneeling,  still  communing  with 
Him  who  seeth  in  secret. 

"  At  length  a  slight  noise,  like  the  crushing  of  a  leaf,  woke  her  from 
her  trance,  and  with  quickness  and  agitation  she  set  out  on  her  return. 
Alarmed  at  her  distance  from  home  at  such  an  hour,  she  proceeded 
with  great  rapidity.  She  was  obliged  to  climb  up  the  face  of  the  rocks 
with  care,  as  the  darkness  rendered  it  a  critical  and  dangerous  task. 
At  length  she  reached  the  top.  Standing  upon  the  verge  of  the  cliff, 
><he  then  turned  a  moment  to  look  back  upon  the  valley.  The  moon 
was  shining  full  upon  the  vale,  and  she  gazed  with  a  mixture  of  awe 
and  delight  upon  the  sea  of  silvery  leaves  which  slept  in  deathlike 
repose  beneath  her.  She  then  turned  to  pursue  her  path  homeward, 
but  what  was  her  amazement  to  see  before  her,  in  the  full  moonlight, 
the  tall  form  of  Pomperaug !  She  shrieked,  and,  swift  as  his  own. 
arrow,  she  sprang  over  the  dizzy  cliff.  The  Indian  listened — there  was 
a  moment  of  silence — then  a  heavy  sound — and  the  dell  was  still  aa 
the  tomb. 

"  The  fate  of  Mary  was  known  only  to  Pomperaug.  He  buried  her 
with  a  lover's  care  amid  the  rocks  of  the  glen.  Then,  bidding  adieu  to 

Vol..  I.— 17 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

then  the  merry  mockery  of  the  red- squirrel,  flying, 
rather  than  leaping  from  tree  to  tree,  with  the  hearty 
guffaw  of  his  gray  brother,  rioting  in  the  abundance 
of  some  aged  hickory  :  how  did  these  add  to  the 
general  harmony !  And  more  than  all  this,  there 
was  occasionally  the  low  whistle  of  the  quail,  steal 
ing  through  the  leaves,  attended  at  intervals  by  the 

his  native  valley,  he  joined  his  people,  who  had  retired  to  the  banks  of 
the  Housatonic. 

***** 

"  More  than  half  a  century  subsequent  to  this  event,  a  rumor  ran 
through  the  village  of  Pomperaug,  that  some  Indians  were  seen  at 
night,  bearing  a  heavy  burden  along  the  margin  of  the  river,  which 
swept  the  base  of  Pomperaug's  Castle.  In  the  morning  a  spot  was 
found  near  by,  on  a  gentle  hill,  where  the  fresh  earth  showed  that  the 
ground  had  been  recently  broken.  A  low  heap  of  stones  on  the  place 
revealed  the  secret.  They  remain  there  to  this  day,  and  the  little  mound 
is  shown  by  the  villagers  as  Pomperaug's  grave." 


Such  is  the  legend  as  I  wrote  it.  The  reader  will  find  in  Cothren's 
History  of  Ancient  Woodbury,  the  exact  version  of  the  story,  as  authen 
tic  chroniclers  have  now  established  it.  The  true  name  of  the  place  is 
Woodbury,  instead  of  Pomperaug :  the  Indian  hero  must  be  called 
Waramaukeag,  not  Pomperaug:  the  aged  minister  is  to  be  called  Walk 
er,  in  lieu  of  Benison ;  and  the  heroine,  his  niece,  must  bear  the  same 
name,  with  the  baptismal  title  of  Sarah.  With  these  emendations,  pop 
ular  faith  has  sanctioned  the  general  outlines  of  my  invention.  Thns, 
it  seems,  a  romance  requires  about  thirty  years  to  crystallize  into  ver 
itable  history  1 

The  name  of  Bethel  Rock  is,  however,  strictly  historical;  here  tiio 
ancient  settlers  actually  assembled  for  worship;  and  in  commemoration 
of  this  fact,  a  few  years  since,  Dr.  Beecher,  then  settled  at  Litohfield,  with 
several  other  clergymen  of  the  vicinity,  came  hither  and  united  in  prnyer. 
The  records  of  Woodbury,  as  given  us  by  the  historian  already  alluded 
to,  show  its  chronicles  to  be  almost  as  full  of  incident,  legend,  and  ad 
venture,  as  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  All  that  is  wanted  to  render 
them  as  deeply  interesting,  is  the  inspiration  of  the  poet  to  sing  and 
sat  them  to  music.  Mr.  Cothren  has  made  a  good  beginning,  for  his 
history  breathes  of  romance  without  impeaching  its  truthfulness,  as  is 
•vinced  by  the  titles  of  some  of  his  topics,  like  the  following  :  Legend 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  387 

rolling  drum  of  the  partridge,*  reminding  me,  with 
all  the  force  of  old  associations,  that  I  was  once  more 
at  liberty  in  the  forest.  How  great,  how  impressive 
do  little  and  even  common  things  become,  when  seen 
through  the  prismatic  lens  of  youthful  remembrance ! 
During  our  stay  in  Woodbury,  as  I  have  said,  we 
lodged  at  the  house  of  the  aged  clergyman,  Father 
Benedict,  f  as  he  was  generally  called.  I  remember 

of  Squaw  Eock:    the   Belt  of  Wampum:     Mr.  Boardman's   Praying 
Match  :  Watchbrok's  Disclosure,  &c.,  &c. 

*  All  American  woodsmen  will  know  that  I  here  speak  of  the  ruffed 
grouse,  which  in  the  autumn  makes  the  forest  echo  by  rapidly  beating 
some  old  decayed  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  with  its  wings.  To  a  sports 
man,  it  is  a  sound  of  lively  interest — for  it  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  chal 
lenge  to  the  sport. 

t  Rev.  Noah  Benedict  was  a  native  of  Danbnry,  and  gradua'ed  at 
Nassau  Hall  in  1757.  He  received  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  ad  «un- 
dem,  from  Yale  College,  in  1760,  and  was  a  fellow  of  that  institution  ircm 
1801  to  1812.  He  was  a  man  of  sound  piety,  and  of  great  dignity  and 
amiability  of  temper.  He  held  an  honored  place  in  the  affections  of  his 
people.  He  was  successful  as  a  spiritual  teacher,  and  was  followed  to 
the  tomb  by  his  parishioners  with  hearts  throbbing  with  grief.  His 
church  has  been  noted  for  the  length  of  time  it  has  enjoyed  the  ger 
vices  of  its  ministers.  There  is  perhaps  no  other  instance  in  the  coun 
try  where  a  church  has  been  presided  over  by  three  pastors,  as  has  been 
the  case  with  this,  for  the  long  period  of  one  hundred  and  forty-three 
years. 

Mr.  Benedict  was  spoken  of,  during  his  life,  and  is  still  so  rememberc'l, 
as  one  of  the  fairest  specimens  of  the  good  clergymen  of  Connecticut. 
Constitutionally,  he  had  a  well-balanced  mind  ;  singularly  discreet  and 
exemplary  in  his  every-day  deportment  and  in  all  the  relations  of  life ; 
as  a  preacher  and  counselor,  he  held  a  high  rank.  His  temper  was  even, 
and  his  condition  was  placid  and  easy.  Temptations,  he  was  cautious, 
and  even  zealous  to  put,  if  possible,  out  of  his  way.  He  once  had  a  fa-, 
vorite  horse — young,  sound,  gentle,  active,  and  graceful ;  the  animal  was 
admired  by  his  rider's  parishioners.  But  Mr.  Benedict,  to  the  surprise 
of  all,  sold  the  horse.  A  neighbor  expressed  his  astonishment  at  the 
event,  and  inquired  the  reason  of  it.  "  He  was  growing  unruly,"  was 
the  grave  pastor's  reply.  "  But  I  thought,"  said  the  man,  "  that  he  was 
a  very  orderly  horse."  "  No,"  was  the  rejoinder ;  "  he  was  growing 


388  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

his  voice  still,  which  was  remarkable  for  its  tender, 
affectionate  tones.  There  was  also  a  childlike  simpli 
city  in  his  prayers,  which  was  very  touching.  These 
made  such  an  impression  on  me  that  I  could  now  re 
peat  several  passages,  which  were  perhaps  favorites, 
as  they  came  in  every  petition. 

Of  Judge  Smith,  his  son-in-law — whom  I  have  al 
ready  mentioned — I  have  also  the  most  vivid  recol 
lections.  He  was  then  about  fifty  years  of  age.  His 
hair  was  jet  black,  his  eye  black  and  piercing,  his 
complexion  swarthy.  He  was  of  middle  height,  of  a 
large  and  massive  mould.  There  was  a  mingled 
plainness  and  majesty  about  his  appearance,  such  as 
might  have  suited  Cincinnatus.  He  was  a  great 
farmer,  and  devoted  himself  with  intense  interest  to 
his  tillage,  his  cattle,  and  his  flocks,  during  the  re 
cesses  of  the  courts.  At  these  times,  he  seemed  to 
delight  in  the  rustic  sports  and  simple  pastimes  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  in  early  life.  After 
the  day's  task  was  done,  he  was  often  seen  in  the 
midst  of  his  workmen,  gathered  upon  some  grassy 
plain,  for  the  race,  the  wrestle,  or  other  gymnastic 

quite  unruly  :  he  once  got  into  the  pulpit,  and  I  thought  it  was  time  to 
part  with  him." 

This  minister  was  blessed  in  his  family,  and  honored  in  the  alliances 
of  his  children  by  marriage,  and  by  their  eminent  usefulness  and  the 
distinctions  to  which  they  attained  in  public  offices  and  employments. 
His  people  never  desired  his  separation  :  death  effected  it  in  the  year 
1813,  at  the  age  of  seventy-six.  He  lives  in  the  sweet  and  grateful  re 
membrance  of  the  aged  in  his  parish  and  out  of  it ;  and  the  present 
generation  of  Woodbury  have  heard  from  the  reverential  and  affection 
ate,  the  story  of  his  goodness. — Cothrens  History  of  A/<cUrU  Wovdbu.ru. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC AL,  ETC.  389 

exercises — he  being  the  umpire,  and  joining  heartily 
in  the  spirit  of  frolic  and  fun,  proper  to  the  occasion. 
Nothing  could  be  more  admirable  than  his  inter 
course  with  his  family  and  the  people  around  him. 
All  knew  him  to  be  the  judge,  yet  all  felt  that  he  was 
even  more  to  them — the  father,  friend,  and  neighbor. 

Few  men  have  left  behind  them  a  biography  at 
once  so  striking  and  so  spotless.  "  Perhaps,"  says 
the  chronicler,  "  the  history  and  character  of  no  other 
man  could  be  more  profitably  studied  by  the  youth 
of  ardent  aspirations,  feeling  the  fire  of  genius  burn 
ing  within  him,  and  struggling  under  the  power  of 
adverse  circumstances  for  an  honorable  position  in 
society,  than  that  of  Mr.  Smith.  He  furnishes  a  bril 
liant  example  of  what  the  innate  force  of  a  mighty 
intellect  can  accomplish,  though  surrounded  by  diffi 
culties  and  obstacles."* 

The  father  of  Mr.  Smith  was  poor,  and  hence  he  had 
an  extremely  limited  education.  While  yet  young, 
he  and  his  brother  were  engaged  in  trading  between 
Philadelphia  and  the  northern  parts  of  New  England. 
Being  once  at  Kutland,  Vermont,  and  having  a  little 
leisure,  he  went  into  the  court-house,  and  heard  a  trial 
there.  He  became  deeply  interested,  and  after  a  little 
reflection,  he  said  to  his  brother — "  I  have  been  to 
Philadelphia,  to  sell  new  rum,  for  the  last  time :  I  am 
determined  to  be  a  lawyer.  Ignorant  as  I  am,  I 

*  Cotlireii's  History  of  Ancient  Woodbury,  p.  398. 


390  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

could  have  managed  the  case  I  heard  in  court,  better 
than  either  of  the  parties  engaged.  My  mind  is 
made  up !"  Soon  after  this,  he  offered  himself  as  a 
student  in  the  office  of  Judge  Eeeve  of  Litchfield. 
The  latter,  knowing  his  unlettered  condition,  attempt 
ed  to  dissuade  him  from  an  attempt  which  seemed  so 
hopeless.  As  Smith  persisted,  however,  he  lent  him 
a  book,  desiring  him  to  read  it,  and  come  back  in  a 
week  for  an  examination.  This  he  did,  and  the  judge 
was  so  struck  with  his  intelligence  and  capacity,  that 
he  received  him  into  his  office,  and  thenceforward 
gave  him  every  encouragement.  Such  was  his  prog 
ress,  that  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  even  before  the 
time  usually  required  for  study  had  elapsed. 

What  had  been  so  well  begun  was,  in  due  time, 
finished  in  a  similar  manner.  Mr.  Smith  rose  with 
unexampled  rapidity  to  the  front  ranks  of  his  profes 
sion,  and  that  too  at  a  time  when  the  Connecticut 
bar  shone  with  a  constellation  of  great  names.  His 
clearness  of  statement,  his  simple  but  vigorous  logic, 
his  fertility  and  felicity  of  illustration,  all  aided  by 
a  manly  presence  and  a  voice  of  prodigious  power, 
gave  him  a  mastery  alike  over  the  plainest  and  the 
most  instructed  audience.  These  high  gifts  were 
nerved  by  an  iron  will,  and  when  once  he  was  roused 
to  an  earnest  effort,  his  course  was  marked  with  a 
crushing  energy,  which  bore  down  all  opposition.  It 
is  said  that  sometimes,  in  the  consciousness  of  his 
power,  he  rode  rough-shod  over  his  adversary,  though 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  391 

in  general  his  practice  was  signalized  not  only  by 
justice  but  amenity. 

It  appears  that  although  Mr.  Smith  thus  rose  to  dis 
tinction,  he  still  preserved  the  good-will  of  the  people 
at  large,  in  an  uncommon  degree.  He  soon  passed 
through  various  stages  of  official  advancement :  in 
1789,  he  represented  his  native  town  in  the  General 
Assembly;  in  1795,  he  was  sent  to  Congress;  in  1800, 
he  was  a  member  of  the  State  Council ;  in  1806,  he 
was  judge  of  the  Superior  Court,  an  office  which  he 
held  for  eleven  years,  when  the  state  of  his  health 
compelled  him  to  resign.  In  all  these  positions  he  was 
distinguished  for  his  ability,  his  good  sense,  his  right 
feeling,  his  patriotism,  justice,  dignity.  Yet  it  is  re 
corded  that  in  this  elevated  career,  he  never  ceased  to 
be  stamped  with  the  simplicity  of  the  country  farmer. 
The  farm  was,  indeed,  the  place  which  he  seemed 
most  to  enjoy.  His  intercourse  with  country  people 
was  marked  with  a  fellowship  very  rare  in  a  profes 
sional  man,  and  hence,  no  doubt,  that  general  feeling 
of  kindliness  among  the  masses,  which  even  yet  cher 
ishes  his  memory  in  his  native  valley,  and  indeed 
throughout  his  native  State. 

It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  none  of  the  higher 
oratorical  efforts  of  this  great  man  are  preserved.  The 
reporting  of  speeches — so  common  now — was  un 
known  in  his  day,  and  he  had  too  little  love  of  self- 
display  to  report  what  he  said,  himself.  There  was,  in 
general,  a  modesty,  a  self-forgetfulness  about  him. 


i>9'2  r.KTTEKS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

quite  as  remarkable  as  the  greatness  of  his  intellect. 
He  shrunk  from  no  public  duty,  but  he  coveted  no 
public  honors.  When  not  officially  called  away,  his 
home,  his  farm,  and  the  house  of  worship — for  he  was 
a  man  of  steadfast  piety — were  his  chosen  scenes  and 
sources  of  interest.  When  I  saw  him,  he  was  at  the 
height  of  his  fame:  all  eyes  looked  at  him  with  ad 
miration.  It  may  be  imagined,  therefore,  that  a 
strong  impression  was  made  upon  my  mind,  when — 
one  evening  chancing  to  be  at  his  house  —  I  saw 
him  kneel  down  in  the  midst  of  his  gathered  fam 
ily,  including  the  servants,  and  offer  up  his  evening 
prayer,  with  all  the  earnest  simplicity  and  feeling 
of  a  child,  addressing  a  revered  but  beloved  father. 
There  was  something  inexpressibly  touching  and 
affecting  in  the  scene,  and  especially  in  the  thrilling, 
pleading  tones  of  the  speaker,  poured  out  as  if  from 
the  fullness  of  an  overflowing  heart.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten — a  lesson  never  to  fail 
of  imparting  instruction.* 

*  The  family  of  Judge  Smith  has  been  morked  with  great  vigor  of 
mind  and  character.  He  assisted  his  brother  Nathan — who  had  shared 
In  his  early  poverty  and  depression — to  fit  himself  for  the  bar,  and  he 
finally  rose  to  great  eminence — professional  and  political.  lie  died  at 
Washington — being  then  a  Senator  of  the  United  States — Dec.  6,  1835, 
aged  85. 

Truman  Smith,  nephew  of  Judge  Smith,  settled  at  Litchfield,  and 
became  a  leading  member  of  the  bar.  In  1848,  he  was  elected  to  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States,  and  was  distinguished  for  those  masculine 
powers  of  oratory,  combined  with  practical  good  sense,  which  marked 
his  eminent  relatives,  just. named.  Though  elected  for  a  second  term, 
lie  resigned  his  seat  in  1854. 

Nathaniel  B.  Smith,  only  child  of  the  judge,  inherited  his  t'ann,  and 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  KTC.  393 


LETTER   XXIV. 

The  Cold  Winter  and  a  Sharp  Hide — Description  of  Daribury — The  Hat 
Manufactory — The  Sandimanians — Gen.  Wooster's  Monument — Death 
of  my  Brother-in-law— Master  White — Mathematics — Farewell  to  Dan- 
bury. 

MY  DEAR  C  ****** 

We  returned  to  Danbury  after  a  tour  of  some  five 
or  six  weeks.  The  succeeding  autumn  and  winter 
presented  no  peculiar  incident — with  a  single  excep 
tion.  There  was,  if  I  rightly  remember,  in  the  month 
of  February,*  a  certain  "  cold  Friday,"  which  passed 
down  to  succeeding  generations  as  among  the  marvels 
of  the  time.  It  had  snowed  heavily  for  three  days,  and 
the  ground  was  covered  three  feet  deep.  A  driving 
wind  from  the  northeast  then  set  in,  and  growing 
colder  and  colder,  it  became  at  last  so  severe  as  to  force 
everybody  to  shelter.  This  continued  for  two  days,  the 
whole  air  being  filled  with  sleet,  so  that  the  sun,  with 
out  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  shone  dim  and  gray  as  through 
a  fog.  The  third  day,  the  wind  increased,  both  in 
force  and  intensity  of  cold.  Horses,  cattle,  fowls, 
sheep,  perished  in  their  coverings.  The  roads  were 
blocked  up  with  enormous  drifts:  the  mails  were 

his  love  of  agriculture,  which  lie  has  pursued  with  great  science  and 
success.  He  has  filled  various  public  offices,  but  probably  values  among 
liis  highest  honors,  his  medals  for  the  best  examples  of  stock  and  tillage, 
awarded  him,  on  various  occasions,  by  the  Connecticut  State  Agricul 
tural  Society.  He  is  now  president  of  that  institution  (13.~if>). 

*  This  was.  I  think,  in  180'J,  though  it  might  have  been  a  year  later 

17* 


394  LKTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

stopped,  traveling  was  suspended  ;  the  world,  indeed, 
seemed  paralyzed,  and  the  circulation  of  life  to  be 
arrested. 

On  the  morning  of  this  third  day — which  was  the 
ominous  and  famous  Friday — word  was  brought  to 
my  sister  that  a  poor  family,  to  whom  she  had  long 
been  a  kind  of  providence,  about  two  miles  off,  was 
in  danger  of  starvation.  She  knew  no  fear,  and  tol 
erated  no  weakness.  A  thing  with  her  that  ought 
to  be  done,  was  to  be  done.  Therefore,  a  sack  was 
filled  with  bread,  meat,  candles,  and  a  pint  of  rum : 
this  was  lashed  around  my  waist.  The  horse  was 
brought  to  the  door — I  mounted  and  set  off.  I  knew 
the  animal  well,  and  we  had  enjoyed  many  a  scam 
per  together.  He  was  indeed  after  my  own  heart — 
clean-limbed,  with  full,  knowing  eyes,  and  small, 
pointed,  sensitive  ears.  He  had  a  cheerful  walk,  a 
fleet,  skimming  trot,  a  swift  gallop,  and  all  these 
paces  we  had  often  tried.  I  think  he  knew  who  was 
on  his  back ;  but  when  we  got  to  the  turning  of  the 
road,  which  brought  his  nostrils  into  the  very  tunnel 
of  the  gale,  he  snorted,  whirled  backward,  and  seemed 
resolved  to  return.  I  however  brought  him  sternly 
to  his  work,  gave  him  sharp  advice  in  the  ribs,  and 
assured  him  that  I  was  resolved  to  be  master.  Hesi 
tating  a  moment — as  if  in  doubt  whether  I  could  be 
in  earnest — he  started  forward;  yet  so  keen  was  the 
blast,  that  he  turned  aside  his  head,  and  screamed  ;is 
if  his  nostrils  wore  pierced  with  hot  iron.  On  lie 


THE  COLD  FRIDAY.     Vol.  1.  p.  394. 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOJICAL,  KTC.  305 

\veut,  liowover,  in  some  instances  up  to  the  saddle 
in  the  drift,  yet  clearing  it  at  full  bounds. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  at  the  door  of  the  miser 
able  hut,  now  half  buried  in  a  snow-drift.  I  was 
just  in  time.  The  wretched  inmates — a  mother  and 
three  small  children  —  without  fire,  without  food, 
without  help  or  hope — were  in  bed,  poorly  clothed, 
and  only  keeping  life  in  their  bodies  by  a  mutual 
cherishing  of  warmth,  like  pigs  or  puppies  in  a  sim 
ilar  extremity.  The  scene  within  was  (iismal  in  the 
extreme.  The  fireplace  was  choked  with  snow,  which 
had  fallen  down  the  chimney  :  the  ill-adjusted  doors 
and  windows  admitted  alike  the  drift  and  the  blast, 
both  of  which  swept  across  the  room  in  cutting  cur 
rents.  As  I  entered,  the  pale,  haggard  mother,  com 
prehending  at  a  glance  that  relief  had  come,  burst 
into  a  flood  of  tears.  I  had  no  time  for  words.  I 
threw  them  the  sack,  remounted  my  horse,  and,  the 
wind  at  my  back,  I  flew  home.  One  of  my  ears  was 
a  little  frost-bitten,  and  occasionally  for  years  after,  a 
tingling  and  itching  sensation  there,  reminded  me  of 
my  ride,  which  after  all  left  an  agreeable  remembrance 
upon  my  mind. 

Danbury*  is  a  handsome  town,  now  numbering 

*  Danbnry  is  one  of  the  semi-capitals  of  Fairfield  county,  the  courts 
being  held  here  and  at  Fairfield,  alternately.  The  main  street  is  nearly 
two  mL'f-k  in  length,  and  presents  many  handsome  residences.  Tho 
society  is  marked  by  more  than  ordinary  intelligence  and  refinement. 
The  Indian  name  of  the  place  was  Pah-qul-o-que,  and  it  was  first  settled 
by  the  English  in  1684.  It  has  been  prolific  in  distinguished  men  :  the 
names  of  its  early  founders  having  been  spread  fur  and  wide,  and  many 


39f>  LKTTKRS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

six  thousand  inhabitants  ;  but  in  my  time  there  were 
scarcely  more  than  half  that  number.  It  is  chiefly 
built  on  a  long,  wide  street,  crossed  near  the  northern 
extremity  by  a  small  river,  a  branch  of  the  Housato* 
nic,  which,  having  numerous  rapids,  affords  abundance 
of  mill-sites  in  its  course.  At  this  crossing,  there 
were  two  extensive  hat-factories,  famous  over  the 
whole  country,  and  belonging,  the  one  to  White, 
Brothers  &  Co.,  and  the  other  to  Tweedy  &  Co.  Their 
hats  were  the  rage  with  the  fashionable  Genins,  St. 
Johns,  Knoxes,  and  Beebes  of  that  age.  I  believe, 
indeed,  that  these  factories,  with  others  of  more  mod 
ern  date,  are  still  maintained. 

Nearly  all  the  workmen  in  these  establishments — of 
whom  there  were  several  hundred — at  the  time  I  am 
describing,  were  foreigners,  mostly  English  and  Irish. 
A  large  part  of  the  business  of  our  store  was  the  fur 
nishing  of  rum  to  these  poor  wretches,  who  bought 
one  or  two  quarts  on  Saturday  night,  and  fuddled 
themselves  till  Monday,  and  frequently  till  Tuesday. 
A  factory  workman  of  those  days  was  thought  to  be 
born  to  toil,  to  get  drunk,  and  make  a  hell  of  his  home. 
Philanthropy  itself  had  not  then  lifted  its  eye  or  its 
hopes  above  this  hideous  malaria  of  custom.  We  had 
imported  these  ideas  from  England  and  other  foreign 
manufacturing  countries,  and  they  reigned  over  the 

of  them  being  yet  preserved  in  the  present  residents  of  the  place. 
Among  these,  the  names  of  Wildam,  Mys'att,  Hoyt,  Tweedy,  Benedict, 
"White,  Starr,  Knupp,  &<_•.,  are  conspicuous. 


HISTOEICAL,  ANECDOTIC  AL,  KTC.  397 

public  mind.  That  large  humanity,  which  has  done 
so  much,  in  modern  times,  to  remove  vice  and  crime, 
and  to  elevate  the  public  standard  of  morals,  had  not 
then  set  its  Star  in  the  West,  calling  the  Wise  and  Good 
to  a  new  revelation  of  life.  It  is  a  modern  discovery 
that  manufacturing  towns  may  rise  up,  where  com 
fort,  education,  morals,  and  religion,  in  their  best 
and  happiest  exercise,  may  be  possessed  by  the  toiling 
masses.  This  is  not  only  a  modern,  but  an  American 
discovery,  and  refutes  volumes  of  abuse  that  long- 
eared  philosophy  has  leveled  at  republicanism. 

Danbury  is  not  without  other  points  of  interest — 
historical  and  social.  It  was,  as  I  have  shown,  the 
scene  of  one  of  those  wanton  and  wicked  outrages, 
perpetrated  upon  the  people  of  Connecticut,  and  in 
deed  of  many  other  parts  of  this  country,  which 
made  the  British  name  offensive  to  God  and  man,  du 
ring  the  Revolutionary  war.  In  commemoration  of 
the  life  and  services  of  General  Wooster,  who  fell  at 
Ridgefield,  in  an  encounter  with  these  British  marau 
ders,  there  has  recently  been  erected  at  Danbury  a 
beautiful  monument  of  Portland  granite,  forty  feet 
in  height,  with  the  following  inscription  : 

DAVID  WOOSTER, 
First  Major  general  of  the  Connecticut  troops 

in  the  Arniy  of  the  Revolution; 
Brigadier-general  of  the  United  Colonies. 

Born  at  Hartford,  March  2,  1710  or  11 ; 
Wounded  at  Ridgefield,  April  27,  1777,  while  defending 

the  liberties  of  America, 

And  nobly  died  at  Danbury, 

May  2,  1777. 


31)8  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

The  character  of  Wooster*  was  indeed  a  noble  one, 
and  the  people  of  Danbury  have  shown  a  wise  dis 
cernment  in  the  construction  of  this  beautiful  memo 
rial  of  his  character  and  career. 

One  item  more  and  I  shall  take  leave  of  Danbury. 
About  midway  between  the  northern  and  southern 
extremities  of  the  long  main  street,  and  a  little  to  the 
west  of  it,  there  was  a  building  of  moderate  size, 
somewhat  between  a  church  and  a  barn,  in  aspect.  It 
was  without  tower  or  steeple,  so  it  could  not  be  the 
first :  it  was  nicely  built  and  tidily  kept,  and  could 
not  be  the  last.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  sanctuary  of  the 
Sandimanians,  or,  according  to  the  popular  accent, 
Sandimmians ;  a  small  sect  of  forty  members  then, 
and  now  dwindled  to  a  still  smaller  number. 

The  history  of  its  founder  is  well  known.  Robert 
Sandiman,  a  Scotchman,  having  adopted  the  tenets, 
and  married  the  daughter,  of  Rev.  John  Glass — an  able 


*  This  monument  stands  on  a  solid  platform,  about  twenty  feet  square, 
at  the  corners  of  which  are  massive  stone  posts,  which  support  an  iron 
railing.  The  plinth  is  richly  moulded,  and  the  name  of  WOOSTEB  ap 
pears  in  bold  raised  letters,  upon  the  front  or  south  side.  The  General 
is  represented,  in  a  beautifully  sculptured  relief,  in  the  act  of  falling 
from  his  horse,  at  the  moment  he  received  the  fatal  ball.  Above  this, 
appears  a  delineation  of  the  State  arms ;  and  higher  still,  the  main 
shaft  is  ornamented  with  a  trophy,  consisting  of  a  sash,  sword,  and  epau 
lettes.  On  two  opposite  sides  are  various  appropriate  masonic  and  mili 
tary  emblems.  The  whole  is  surmounted  with  a  globe,  on  which  stands 
the  American  Eagle,  bearing  in  his  beak  the  wreath  of  victory.  This 
fine  column  was  consecrated  by  imposing  ceremonies  on  the  27th  April, 
1854,  at  which  the  Governor  of  the  State,  with  many  distinguished  cit 
izens,  deputations  from  various -lodges,  and  a  large  concourse  of  people, 
assisted.  The  oration,  by  Hon.  H.  C.  Deming,  was  deeply  interesting, 
as  well  on  account  of  its  eloquence  as  its  historical  reminiscences. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  399 

divine,  wlio  seems  to  have  been  the  originator  of  the 
Scotch  Independents — became  a  distinguished  defend 
er  of  his  theological  views.  After  a  time,  he  was  in 
vited  to  come  to  America  by  some  of  his  admirers 
there,  and  accordingly  he  arrived  in  1764,  and  settled 
among  them — first  at  Boston,  but  finally  taking  up 
his  residence  at  Danbury.  He  appears  to  have  been 
much  disappointed  at  the  character  of  his  adherents, 
and  the  general  state  of  society  in  America.  This  was 
aggravated*by  his  taking  the  tory  side  in  the  agitation 
which  now  verged  toward  the  Revolution.  His  days 
were  in  fact  embittered,  and  his  flock  reduced  to  a 
handful  of  followers.  His  death  took  place  in  1771, 
and  a  simple  marble  slab,  in  the  burial-ground,  op 
posite  the  court-house,  commemorates  his  name  and 
history.  He  was  doubtless  a  man  of  ability,  but 
his  career  displays  the  usual  narrowness  and  in 
consistency  of  sectarianism  founded  upon  persons, 
rather  than  principles.  His  doctrine  was,  that  faith 
is  a  mere  intellectual  conviction — a  bare  belief  of  the 
bare  truth.  Of  course  so  cold  a  religion,  scarcely  dis 
tinguishable  in  its  principle  from  deism,  and  giving  no 
satisfaction  to  that  constant  craving  of  the  soul  for  a 
more  exalted  and  spiritual  life,  could  not  prosper.  It 
was  only  adapted  to  a  few  rigid  minds  like  his  own. 
His  adherents  in  my  time  met  at  their  little  church 
on  the  afternoons  of  Sundays  and  Thursdays ;  they 
sat  around  a  large  table,  each  with  a  Bible.  The 
men  rend  and  discoursed,  as  the  spirit  dictated  :  the 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

women  were  silent.  Spectators  were  admitted,  but 
the  worshipers  seemed  not  to  recognize  their  pres 
ence.  After  a  prayer  and  a  hymn,  they  went  to  the 
house  of  one  of  the  members,  and  had  a  love-feast. 
"  Greet  one  another  with  a  holy  kiss,"  was  their  max 
im  and  their  practice. 

These  customs  remain*  to  the  present  day,  save 
only  as  to  the  kiss,  which,  according  to  the  current  re 
port,  was  modified  some  years  since.  The  congregation 

was  rather  mixed,  and  included  the  "W R s,  a 

family  of  wealth  and  refinement,  down  to  N.  S  . . . ., 
the  blacksmith.  Mrs.  W  . . . .  R  .  . .  .  was  a  woman 
of  great  delicacy  of  person,  manners,  and  dress :  her 
lace  was  the  finest,  her  silks  the  richest,  her  muslin 
the  most  immaculate.  She  was  in  breeding  a  lady, 
in  position  an  aristocrat,  in  feeling  an  exclusive.  And 
yet,  one  day,  as  she  walked  forth,  and  chanced  to 
turn  the  corner,  close  to  the  central  meeting-house, 
wending  her  way  homeward,  she  came  suddenly 
upon  the  village  Vulcan,  above  mentioned.  He  was 
in  front  of  his  shop,  and  being  a  man  of  full  habit, 
and  having  just  put  down  the  heel  of  an  ox,  which 
he  was  shoeing,  he  was  damp  with  perspiration. 
Nevertheless,  the  faith  was  strong  within  him :  "Greet 
one  another  with  a  holy  kiss  !"  rushed  to  his  mind, 
and  he  saluted  Mrs.  W R  . . . .,  as  in  duty  bound. 

*  A  friend  writes  me  (1856)  that  the  Sandimanian  church  at  Danbury 
now  numbers  three  male  and  fifteen  female  members.  The  congrega 
tion  comprises  about  thirty  persons. 


n::-T»;:irAL,  A\;X!K>T;.:A:..  K7C.  401 

She,  a  saint  in  profession,  but  alas,  in  practice  a  sin 
ner,  as  doth  appear — returned  not  the  salute !  Had 
she  been  of  another  sect,  abstinence  would  have 
been  a  virtue,  but  in  this,  it  was  of  course  a  crime. 
Upon  this  incident  rocked  and  quaked  the  whole 
Sandimanian  church  for  some  months.  At  last  the 
agitation  subsided,  and  the  holy  kiss  was  thence 
forward  either  abandoned  or  given  with  discretion. 
Such  is  the  tale  as  it  was  told  to  me,  nearly  fifty 
years  ago. 

It  may  be  remarked  that  Saudimanianisrn,  which 
originated  in  a  hard,  sarcastic  mind,  subsided  into  a 
sort  of  amiable  and  tranquil  Quakerism.  Its  mem 
bers  were  noted  for  purity  of  life,  and  some  of  them 
for  habits  of  abstraction,  which  marked  themselves 
in  a  cold  pallor  upon  the  countenance.  Seeming  to 
be  conscious  of  a  chill  at  the  heart,  they  sought  to 
quicken  the  circulation  of  the  Spirit,  by  outward  ob 
servances  and  by  peculiarities  of  worship,  such  as 
might  distinguish  them  from  other  Christians.  "  I 
am  better  than  thou,  for  I  am  other  than  thou,"  has 
often  proved  a  consoling  doctrine  for  the  narrow  peo 
ple  of  narrow  creeds. 

A  few  brief  sketches  more,  and  I  have  done  with 
Danbury.  The  health  of  my  brother-in-law  gradu 
ally  failed,  and  at  last,  as  winter  approached,  he  took 
to  his  room,  and  finally  to  his  bed.  By  almost  in 
sensible  degrees,  and  with  singular  tranquillity  of 
mind  and  body,  he  approached  his  end.  It  was  a 


402  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

trait  of  his  character,  to  believe  nothing,  to  do  noth 
ing,  by  halves.  Having  founded  his  faith  on  Christ, 
Christianity  was  now,  in  its  duties,  its  promises, 
and  its  anticipations,  as  real  as  life  itself.  He  was 
afflicted  with  no  doubts,  no  fears.  With  his  mind 
in  full  vigor,  his  strong  intellect  vividly  awake,  he 
was  ready  to  shake  hands  with  death,  and  to  enter 
into  the  presence  of  his  God.  The  hour  came.  He 
had  taken  leave  of  his  friends,  and  then  feeling  a 
sense  of  repose,  he  asked  to  be  left  alone.  They  all 
departed  save  one,  who  sat  apart,  listening  to  every 
breath.  In  a  few  moments  she  came  and  found 
him  asleep,  but  it  was  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
waking  I 

I  continued  in  the  store  alone  for  several  months, 
selling  out  the  goods,  and  closing  up  the  affairs  of 
the  estate.  I  had  now  a  good  deal  of  time  to  my 
self,  and  thumbed  over  several  books,  completing 
my  reading  of  Shakspeare,  to  which  I  have  already 
alluded.  It  happened  that  we  had  a  neighbor  over 
the  way — a  good-natured,  chatty  old  gentleman,  by 
the  name  of  Ebenezer  White.  He  had  been  a  teacher, 
and  had  a  great  taste  for  mathematics.  In  those  days 
it  was  the  custom  to  put  forth  in  the  newspapers  puz 
zling  questions  of  figures,  and  to  invite  their  solution. 
Master  White  was  sure  to  give  the  answer,  first.  In 
fact,  his  genius  for  mathematics  was  so  large,  that  it 
left  rather  a  moderate  space  in  his  brain  for  common 
sense.  He  was,  however,  full  of  good  feelings,  and 

16* 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIOAL,  ETC.  403 

was  now  entirely  at  leisure.  Indeed,  time  hung 
heavy  on  his  hands,  so  he  made  me  frequent  visits, 
and  in  fact  lounged  away  an  hour  or  two  of  almost 
every  day,  at  the  store.  I  became  at  last  interested 
in  mathematics,  and  under  his  good-natured  and  gra 
tuitous  lessons,  I  learned  something  of  geometry  and 
trigonometry,  and  thus  passed  on  to  surveying  and 
navigation.  This  was  the  first  drop  of  real  science 
that  I  ever  tasted — I  might  almost  say  the  last,  for 
though  I  have  since  skimmed  a  good  many  books,-  I 
feel  that  I  have  really  mastered  almost  nothing. 


LETTER    XXV, 

Farewell  to  Danbury — Hartford — My  First  Master  and,  his  Family — Me- 
rino  Sheep — A  Wind-up — Another  Change — My  new  Employer — A  new 
Era  in  Life — George  Sheldon — Franklin'1'  Biography. 

MY   DEAR   C****** 

I  must  now  introduce  you  to  a  new  era  in  my 
life.  Early  in  the  summer  of  1811,  I  took  leave  of 
Danbury,  and  went  to  Hartford.  On  my  arrival 
there,  I  was  installed  in  the  dry-goods  store  of  C.  B. 
K  . . . .,  my  father  having  made  the  arrangement  some 
weeks  before.  My  master  was  a  young  man  of  ex 
cellent  disposition,  with  a  pretty  wife  and  two  fat 
cherubs  of  children.  I  was  kindly  treated  in  this 
family,  with  which  I  took  my  meals.  Many  a  happy 


404  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

rornp  had  I  with  the  children — this  exercise  filling 
in  some  degree  the  aching  void  of  my  bosom,  arising 
from  isolation — for  I  was  not  only  in  a  new  place, 
but  I  was  almost  without  friends  or  acquaintances. 
My  master  had  no  real  turn  for  business,  and  spent 
much  of  his  time  away,  leaving  the  affairs  of  the 
shop  to  an  old  fudge  of  a  clerk,  by  the  name  of 
Jones,  and  to  me.  Things  went  rather  badly,  and 
he  sought  to  mend  his  fortune  by  a  speculation  in  Me 
rino  sheep* — then  the  rage  of  the  day.  A  ram  sold 


*  The  Merino  sheep  appears  to  he  a  breed  which  originated  in  the 
mountain  districts  of  Estremadura,  in  Spain,  in  the  time  of  the  Roman 
dominion,  from  the  careful  mixture  of  celebrated  European  and  Asiatic 
breeds.  In  the  time  of  Tiberius,  a  ram  of  this  stock  was  sold  for  a 
thousand  dollars,  an  enormous  price,  if  we  consider  the  value  of  money 
at  that  period.  The  more  tender  breeds  of  sheep  became  extinct  in  Italy 
and  Greece  during  the  invasions  of  the  northern  barbarians,  but  the 
hardy  Merinoes,  having  thriven  in  the  mountains,  survived,  and  have 
come  down  to  modern  times.  All  the  European  breeds,  now  celebrated 
for  the  fineness  of  their  wool,  are  crosses  of  the  Merino. 

The  first  Merinoes  brought  into  the  United  States  were  imported  by 
Chancellor  Robert  R.  Livingston — a  pair  of  each  sex — in  1802.  M.  De- 
lessert  sent  a  few  others,  soon  after.  Little  attention,  however,  was  paid 
to  the  subject,  and  it  seems  that  about  1805,  half-breeds  were  sold  at  a 
price  below  that  of  common  sheep.  Afterward,  a  larger  importation  was 
made  by  Col.  Humphries,  who  had  been  our  Minister  to  Spain,  and  our 
Consul,  Jarvis  :  these  were  three  hundred  in  number,  and  arrived  in 
1810.  Humphries  tells  us  that  he  had  turned  his  thoughts  to  this  subject 
before  he  left  Spain,  and  as  he  seems  to  have  consulted  his  muse  iu  ev 
ery  thing  that  interested  him,  he  had  there  written  a  poem,  the  burden 
of  which  is  found  in  the  following  stanzas : 

"  Oh  might  my  guidance  from  the  downs  of  Spain, 
Lead  a  white  flock  across  tbe  western  main  ; 
Famed  like  the  hark  that  hore  the  Argonaut 
Should  he  the  vessel  with  the  burden  fraught  I 
Clad  In  the  raiment  my  Merinoes  yield ; 
Like  Cincinnatus,  fed  from  my  own  field ; 
Far  from  ambition,  grandeur,  care,  and  strife, 
In  sweet  fruition  of  domestic  life ; 


HISTOKICAL,    AKECDOTICAL,    ETC.  405 

for  a  thousand  dollars  and  a  ewe  for  a  hundred — a 
great  discount  certainly  for  gender ;  but  Maria  An 
toinette  Brown  and  her  school  had  not  yet  equal 
ized  the  sexes.  Fortunes  were  made  and  lost  in  a  day, 
during  this  mania.  With  my  master,  it  was  great  cry 
and  little  wool ;  for  after  buying  a  flock  and  driving 
it  to  Vermont,  where  he  spent  three  months,  he  came 
back  pretty  well  shorn — that  is,  three  thousand  dol 
lars  out  of  pocket!  This  soon  brought  his  affairs  to 
a  crisis,  and  so  in  the  autumn  I  was  transferred  to 

the  dry-goods  store  of  J.  B.  H 

My  new  employer  had  neither  wife  nor  child  to 
take  up  his  time,  so  he  devoted  himself  sedulously  to 
business.  He  was  indeed  made  for  it — elastic  in  his 
frame,  quick-minded,  of  even  temper,  and  assiduous 
politeness.  He  was  already  well  established,  and 
things  marched  along  as  if  by  rail.  For  a  time,  we 
had  another  clerk,  but  he  was  soon  dismissed,  and  I 
was  the  only  assistant ;  my  master,  however,  seldom 
leaving  the  shop  during  business  hours.  Had  trade 
been  in  me,  I  might  now  have  learned  it.  I  think  I 
may  say,  that  I  fulfilled  my  duty,  at  least  in  form ; 
I  was  regular  in  my  hours,  kept  the  books  duly  jour 
nalized  and  posted.  I  never  consciously  wronged 
arithmetic  to  the  amount  of.  a  farthing.  I  duly  per- 

There  would  I  pass  with  friends,  beneath  my  trees, 
What  rests  from  public  life,  in  letter'd  ease." 

This  poetic  aspiration  became  history :  in  1809,  when  Madison  was 
inaugurated,  his  coat  was  made  of  Merino  cloth  from  a  manufactory 
established  by  Humphries,  and  his  small-clothes  from  one  founded  by 
Chancellor  Livingston.  See  Cyclopedia  of  Amer.  Leterature,  vol.  i.  p.  876 


406  LETTEKS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

formed  my  task  at  the  counter.  Yet,  in  all  this,  I 
was  a  slave :  my  heart  was  not  in  my  work.  My 
mind  was  away  :  I  dreamed  of  other  things ;  T 
thought  of  other  pursuits. 

And  yet  I  scarcely  knew  all  this.  I  had  certainly 
no  definite  plan  for  the  future.  A  thousand  things 
floated  before  my  imagination.  Every  book  I  read 
drew  me  aside  into  its  own  vortex.  Poetry  made 
me  poetical  ;  politics  made  me  political  ;  travels 
made  me  truant.  I  was  restless,  for  I  was  in  a  wrong 
position,  yet  I  asked  no  advice,  for  I  did  not  know 
that  I  needed  it.  My  head  and  heart  were  a  hive  of 
thoughts  and  feelings — swarming  in  the  sunny  spring 
tide  of  life — without  the  regulating  and  sedative  su 
premacy  of  a  clear  and  controlling  intelligence.  My 
imagination  was  a  flame,  playing  around  my  yet  cloud 
ed  understanding,  and  giving  to  this  its  own  wavering 
and  blinding  light. 

It  may  seem  to  you,  my  dear  C ,  that  1  am 

treating  with  undue  emphasis  and  detail  this  unspo 
ken  history  of  a  boy  in  a  country  store.  Yet  such — 
in  the  main — is  life,  with  the  great  as  with  the  small. 
Remember,  I  am  speaking  of  that  crisis  of  existence, 
when  an  impulse  to  the  right  or  left  may  determine 
the  direction  and  the  end  of  a  whole  career.  You 
are  a  philosopher,  and  can  not  be  indifferent  to  any 
experience  that  may  throw  light  upon  the  history  of 
the  human  heart.  You  are,  besides,  a  parent,  and  as 
such,  can  not  be  too  well  advised  of  what  passes  in 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOT1CAL,    ETC.  4:07 

the  bosom  of  youth,  and  especially  as  they  stand  at 
the  door  of  manhood.  No  one  can  know  too  well 
the  mastery  which  slight  events  at  this  period  may 
exercise  over  a  long  and  fearful  future.  Therefore, 
pass  not  disdainfully  over  this  page  of  my  story  ! 

My  experience  was,  no  doubt,  in  some  degree  ex 
ceptional.  With  considerable  knowledge,  gathered  by 
glimpses,  in  a  scramble,  as  I  passed  along  in  an  irreg 
ular  and  uncertain  road,  I  had  really  no  education  in 
the  sense  of  mental  discipline.  What  I  knew  was  by 
halves,  and  it  had  been  so  acquired  that  my  mind  was 
a  thicket  of  weeds  and  flowers,  without  a  defined  path 
to  get  into  or  out  of  it.  All  that  I  had  was  instinct, 
somewhat  enlightened,  perhaps,  by  my  early  religious 
training.  On  questions  of  right  and  wrong,  in  feeling 
and  conduct,  my  conscience  should  have  been  a  safe 
guide ;  but  in  respect  _to  the  understanding,  as  to 
logic  of  thought — I  scarcely  knew  the  process.  My 
imagination  was  like  an  unbridled  colt,  and  it  car 
ried  me  whither  it  would.  In  reflecting  upon  this  in 
maturer  years,  I  have  compared  my  mind  to  that  slip 
pery  bird  of  the  sea — the  loon — which  usually  comes 
up  in  the  direction  exactly  opposite  to  that  in  which 
it  goes  down.  In  argument,  in  reflection,  in  delib 
eration,  with  myself  or  others — if  I  began  upon  one 
thing,  I  was  pretty  sure  to  get  speedily  stranded  upon 
another.  All  that  I  knew  of  myself  was,  that  I  felt ; 
I  had  not  yet,  in  fact,  learned  the  process  of  sober  in 
duction  and  methodical  reasoning.  I  had  just  that 


4:08  LETTERS — BIOGKAPHICAL, 

little  learning  which  is  a  dangerous  thing,  because  it 
imparts  intoxication,  not  inspiration. 

So  far,  then,  my  condition  was  certainly  peculiar. 
But  in  regard  to  that  impulse  which  rises  up  in  the 
youthful  bosom  like  a  gale  to  the  ship,  coming  in  the 
midst  of  seeming  calm,  and  bringing  every  sail  and 
spar  suddenly  and  by  surprise  to  its  work — I  was 
like  other  boys  at  the  threshold  of  a  new  and  start 
ling  era  in  life.  What  gigantic  strides  seem  then  to 
be  at  command  with  the  seven-leagued  boots  of  gristle 
manhood !  And  yet,  with  such  an  impetus,  the  youth 
may  yield  himself  to  a  word,  a  thought,  which  takes 
the  helm,  and  guides  the  spirit,  through  weal  or  woe, 
to  its  doom. 

"  My  boyhood  vanish'd,  and  I  woke, 

Startled,  to  manhood's  early  morn — 
No  father's  hand  my  pride  to  yoke, 

No  mother's  angel  voice  to  warn ! 

****** 
The  spark  forever  tends  to  flame— 

The  ray  that  quivers  in  the  plash 
Of  yonder  river,  is  the  same 

That  feeds  the  lightning's  ruddy  flash. 
The  summer  breeze  that  fans  the  rose, 

Or  eddies  down  some  flowery  path, 
Is  but  the  infant  gale  that  blows 

To-morrow  with  the  whirlwind's  wrath. 
And  He  alone  who  wields  the  storm, 

And  bids  the  arrowy  lightnings  play, 
Can  guide  the  heart,  when,  wild  and  warm, 

It  springs  on  passion's  wings  away. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOT1CAL,  ETC.  409 

Cue  augel  minister  is  sent, 

To  guard  and  guide  us  to  the  sky, 
And  still  her  sheltering  wing  is  bent, 

Till  manhood  rudely  throws  it  by. 
Oh,  then  with  mad  disdain  we  spurn 

A  mother's  gentle  teaching ;  throw 
Her  bosom  from  us,  and  we  burn 

To  rush  in  freedom,  where  the  glow 
Of  pleasure  lights  the  dancing  wave — 

We  launch  the  bark,  we  woo  the  gale, 
And  reckless  of  the  darkling  wave 

That  yawns  below,  we  speed  the  sail!" 

Thus  many  a  youth  rushes  upon  his  fate.  Some, 
indeed,  are  always  sober  and  judicious  :  they  plod  on 
wisely  and  prosperously,  not  so  much  on  account  of 
the  influence  of  home  instruction,  nor  indeed  by 
happy  accident,  but  through  inherent  steadiness  of 
character.  Yet  these  cases  are  not  frequent.  Nearly 
all  pass  through  the  straits  of  Scylla  on  one  side  and 
of  Charybdis  on  the  other.  Some  escape,  but,  alas, 
how  many  are  fatally  wrecked !  how  many  only  live 
on  to  scandalize  society,  to  break  the  hearts  of  their 
parents,  to  debase  and  degrade  themselves  and  their 
companions  !  It  is  sad  to  reflect  upon  the  number  of 
young  men  who  are  lost  at  this  turning-point — this 
"  doubling  the  Cape" — of  life.  Several  of  my  earliest 
acquaintances  have  gone  down,  long  since,  to  their 
graves,  the  victims  of  those  hidden  quicksands  which, 
beset  the  youthful  voyager,  at  the  very  moment  when 
his  sails  are  filled  with  flattering  hopes  and  generous 

VOT,.  I.— 18 


410  LKTTEKS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

aspirations — yet,  also,  with  presumptuous  confidence 
In  short,  they  were  shoved  out  to  sea  with  no  pilot 
on  board  but  their  own  passions,  and  destruction  was 
but  the  too  natural  consequence. 

That  I  escaped  is  no  special  merit  of  my  own.     I 
formed  an  acquaintance  with  George  Sheldon,  which 
soon  ripened  into  friendship,  and  this  had  great  influ 
ence  on  my  future  life.     He  was,  at  the  time,  a  clerk 
in  the  establishment  of  Hudson  &  Goodwin,*  a  firm 


*  The  following  obituary  notice,  abridged  from  the  Connecticut  Cou- 
rant  of  May  14,  1844,  is  worthy  of  insertion,  as  well  for  its  just  picture 
of  a  good  man's  life,  as  for  the  facts  of  general  interest  which  it  presents. 

"  Mr.  George  Goodwin,  whose  death  was  yesterday  announced,  was 
born  in  this  city  (Hartford)  on  the  7th  day  of  January,  1757,  and  died  the 
18th  day  of  May,  1844,  being  the  oldest  man  in  the  town.  He  was  de 
scended  from  one  of  those  ancient  families  who  made  their  way  from 
Newtown,  Mass.,  through  the  wilderness,  to  find  a  new  home  on  the 
banks  of  the  Connecticut  river. 

"  At  the  age  of  nine  years  he  was  placed  as  an  apprentice  in  a  print 
ing-office,  where  was  published  a  small  weekly  print,  called  the  Con 
necticut  Courant,  the  first  paper  printed  in  this  town,  and  for  many 
years  the  only  one  upon  this  river — the  history  of  which  is  so  intimately 
connected  with  that  of  the  deceased  as  to  demand  notice.  The  first 
number  was  published  by  Thomas  Green,  October  29,  1764.  In  April, 
1768,  Mr.  Green  associated  with  him  in  this  enterprise,  Mr.  Ebenezer 
Watson,  and  retired  from  it  in  December,  1770,  leaving  it  in  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Watson,  alone.  In  September,  1777,  Mr.  Watson  died,  ancl  Mr 
Goodwin,  a  young  man  of  but  twenty  years  of  age,  was  left  to  conduct 
it.  In  January,  1778,  he  became  a  partner  with  the  widow  of  Mr.  Wat 
son  in  the  establishment,  and  so  continued  until  her  marriage  with  Mr. 
Hudson,  in  March,  1779,  when  he  formed  a  partnership  with  that  gen 
tleman,  which  continued  nearly  forty  years,  or  until  1815.  Mr.  Good 
win,  after  the  dissolution  of  the  concern,  continued  to  superintend  the 
paper  until  the  year  1836,  when  he  relinquished  it  to  the  present  pro 
prietor.  But  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  his  connection  with  this  paper 
ended  at  that  time,  for  such  were  his  habits  of  industry,  and  so  fixed 
were  his  associations,  and  so  long  had  ho  been  identified  with  this  es 
tablishment,  that  he  made  it  one  of  the  stipulations  of  his  contract, 
that  he  should  have  a  right  to  work  in  the  office  as  formerly,  whea  he 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  KTC. 

then  known  all  over  this  hemisphere,  as  publishers 
of  the  Bible,  Webster's  Spelling-book,  and  the  Con 
necticut  Courant.  They  were,  in  the  popular  mind, 
regarded  as  the  bulwarks  of  religion,  education,  and 
federalism — three  pretty  staunch  supporters  of  the 
New  England  platform,  in  that  epoch  of  the  world. 

was  so  disposed — and  for  several  years  after  did  he  avail  himself  of  this 
privilege.  Probably  no  man  in  this  country,  perhaps  no  man  in  the 
world,  had  pursued  this  business  for  so  long  a  time — that  is.  tor  nearly 
eighty  years.  While  under  his  auspices,  this  paper  gained  a  circula 
tion  almost  unknown  to  country  papers,  and  for  a  long  course  of  years 
gave  a  tone  to  the  morals  and  policy  of  the  State. 

"  He  was  always  found  on  the  side  of  religion  and  morals,  nor  was  he 
ashamed  to  profess  Christ  before  men  :  his  great  grief  was  that  he  had 
not  done  it  earlier.  He  was  a  special  friend  of  temperance,  and  imputed 
his  good  health  and- success  in  life  largely,  to  a  rigid  abstinence  from 
intoxicating  drinks. 

"His  politics  were  learned  in  the  school  of  the  American  Eevolutiou. 
In  his  opinions  he  was  firm  and  decided,  but  modest  and  unassuming. 
Without  any  advantages  of  education  beyond  that  of  a  common  school, 
he  became  a  highly  useful  and  intelligent  editor,  and  one  whose  influ 
ence  was  extensively  felt  in  this  community.  His  mind  was  active  and 
sprightly.  He  was  frank  and  pleasant  in  his  manners  ;  he  had  a  good 
share  of  wit  and  humor,  and  in  his  younger  days,  was  the  life  of  the 
circle  into  which  he  entered.  He  was  one  of  the  last  of  the  old  school 
gentlemen  among  us,  and  he  certainly  was  a  good  representative  of  that 
interesting  class. 

"  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  how  well  he  discharged  all  the  duties 
of  private  life  ;  how  kind  and  beneficent  he  was  to  the  poor,  or  how  dear 
to  his  friends.  Happy  in  his  family  circle,  he  passed  those  years,  which 
are  ordinarily  years  '  of  labor  and  sorrow,'  in  cheerful  gratitude  to  God, 
and  humble  hope  in  Christ,  with  few  of  the  pains  and  sorrows  of  old 
age — until,  after  a  sickness  of  a  few  days,  he  fell  like  a  shock  of  corn 
fully  ripe  in  the  hope  of  a  glorious  immortality  beyond  the  grave." 

The  following  lines  by  Mrs.  Sigourney  are  a  worthy  and  pleasing  trib 
ute  to  this  good  man's  memory  : 

OUR  OLDEST  MAN. 

Meek  patriarch  of  our  city!  art  thou  dead? 

The  just,  the  saintly,  and  the  full  of  days, 
The  crown  of  ripen'd  wisdom  on  thy  head, 
The  poor  man's  blessing,  and  the  good  man's  praise  T 


412  I.K'ITKKS 1UOGKAPHICAL, 

It  is  very  seldom  that  plodding  industry  rises  so  high. 
Mr.  Hudson  was  a  homespun  old  respectability,  of 
plain,  strong  sense,  sturdy  principles,  and  rather  dry, 
harsh  manners,  having  also  a  limp  in  the  leg.  He 
took  charge  of  the  financial  department  of  the  con 
cern.  Mr.  Goodwin  was  a  large,  hale,  comely  old 


Would  that  our  sons,  who  saw  thee  onward  move 
With  step  so  vigorous  and  serenely  sage, 

Of  thee  might  learn  to  practice,  and  to  love 
The  hardy  virtues  of  an  earlier  age. 

For  more  than  fourscore  winters  had  not  chill'd 

The  glow  of  healthful  years,  on  lip,  or  cheek, 
Nor  In  thy  breast  the  warm  pulsation  still'd, 

That  moves  with  upright  zeal  to  act  and  speak. 
Ne'er  from  the  righteous  cause  withheld  by  fear, 

Of  honest  toil  ashamed,  nor  proud  of  wealth, 
But  train'd  in  habits  simple  and  sincere, 

From  whence  republics  draw  their  vital  health. 

To  every  kind  affection  gently  true, 

The  husband  and  the  father  and  the  friend, 
Thy  children's  children  still  delighted  drew 

Around  the  lionor'd  grandsire's  chair  to  bend. 
But  now  thy  mansion  hath  its  master  lost, 

Wrapp'd  in  its  pleasant  green,  with  trees  o'erspread 
And  we,  a  patriot  sire,  who  knew  the  cost 

Of  blood-bought  freedom,  in  the  day  of  dread. 

We  mourn  thee,  Father  1    On  thy  staff,  no  more 

Thy  cheerful  smile  shall  greet  us,  day  by  day, 
Nor  the  far  memories  of  thy  treasured  lore, 

Withhold  the  joyous  listeners  from  their  play. 
Where  stood  that  ancient  race  we  fear  to  stand, 

In  foremost  watch  on  life's  beleagner'd  wall, 
To  bide  the  battle  with  a  feebler  hand. 

Perchance  to  falter,  and  perchance  to  fall. 

O  God  of  Strength  ! — who  takest  from  our  head, 

Oar  white-hair'd  patriarchs,  firm  in  faith  and  truth. 
Grant  us  thy  grace,  to  follow  where  they  led, 

A  pure  example  to  observant  youth  ; 
That  though  the  sea  of  time  should  fiercely  roll, 

We  so  its  billows  and  its  waves  may  stem, 
As  not  to  lose  the  sunshine  of  the  soul, 

Nor  our  eternal  rest  in  Heaven,  with  them. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  413 

gentleman,  of  lively  mind  and  cheerful  manners. 
There  was  always  sunshine  in  his  bosom  and  wit 
upon  his  lip.  He  turned  his  hand  to  various  things, 
though  chiefly  to  the  newspaper,  which  was  his  pet. 
His  heaven  was  the  upper  loft  in  the  composition 
room ;  setting  type  had  for  him  the  sedative  charms 
of  knitting-work  to  a  country  dame.  I  have  often 
seen  him,  cheerfully  swinging  back  and  forth,  as  is 
the  wont  of  compositors,  and  tossing  the  type  merrily 
over  his  thumb  into  the  stick,  as  if  he  were  at  work 
by  the  thousand  ems,  and  had  a  wife  and  nine  small 
children  dependent  upon  his  labors  ! 

George  Sheldon,  then,  was  the  favored  clerk  of  this 
ancient  and  honored  firm.  He  was  happily  moulded 
by  nature,  and  not  unkindly  treated  by  fortune.  He 
was  short  of  stature,  but  of  a  bearing  at  once  modest 
and  manly.  His  large  understanding  and  vivid  im 
agination  were  duly  balanced — the  first  being  always 
the  master,  the  latter  always  the  servant.  He  had 
been  well  educated  in  the  schools  of  the  city,  even 
to  the  acquisition  of  the  common  Latin  and  Greek 
classics.  He  had  read  extensively,  for  one  of  his 
age,  and  with  profit.  When  I  met  him,  he  was 
twenty  ;  I  but  eighteen. 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  two  persons  more  un 
like  than  we  were  at  that  time.  Why  we  coalesced, 
can  only  be  accounted  for  from  the  affinity  of  oppo 
sition — a  phenomenon  not  unknown  in  the  chemistry 
of  the  mind  and  the  affections.  Tall  men  seek  short 


414:  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

wives ;  large  women  favor  little  husbands.  The 
blonde  is  smitten  with  black  eyes  and  raven  hair ; 
the  brunette  falls  in  love  with  flaxen  locks  and  azure 
looks.  All  nature's  contradictions  make  all  nature's 
peace.  And  so  a  friendship,  which  was  only  termi 
nated  by  the  grave,  grew  up  between  myself — a  raw 
adventurer  from  the  country — and  George  Sheldon, 
the  educated,  disciplined,  well-balanced  graduate  of 
the  city. 

I  must  again  apologize  for,  or  perhaps  rather  ex 
plain,  the  introduction  of  these  commonplace  details. 
Were  I  writing  for  the  popular  favor,  and  sought 
success  only  through  the  current  taste  of  the  day,  I 
should  choose  for  the  exercise  of  my  pen  a  sub 
ject  very  different  from  that  which  gives  birth  to 
these  pages.  I  know  that  the  public  crave  high-sea 
soned  meats.  Eomance  must  be  thrilling ;  biogra 
phy  startling.  History  must  be  garnished  with  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  vivid  dramatic  representation. 
Who,  then,  of  the  great  excited  public  would  conde 
scend  to  these  simple  memorials  of  apprentice  boys 
in  the  middle  ranks  of  life  ? 

I  might  indeed  cite  as  example  for  these  passages, 
the  autobiography  of  Franklin  the  printer,  were  it  not 
that  I  fear  this  would  be  deemed  too  ambitious,  asx  if 
I  suggested  a  comparison  in  respect  to  the  end  as 
well  as  the  beginning.  Nevertheless,  it  is  Frank 
lin's  history,  as  a  boy  of  the  middle  class,  successfully 
but  laboriously  working  his  way  upward,  that  has 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,   ETC.  4:15 

made  it  at  once  the  most  attractive  and  most  useful 
biography  of  modern  times.  All  over  Christendom, 
it  has  met  with  the  sympathy  of  the  working  classes, 
and  it  has  done  more  than  any  volume  within  my 
knowledge,  to  give  courage  and  heart  to  the  sons  of 
labor,  as  it  has  shown  that  the  paths  of  ambition  are 
open  to  them  as  to  others,  provided  they  be  followed 
with  Franklin's  virtues — honesty,  frugality,  perseve 
rance,  and  patriotism.  What  a  contrast  between  the 
influence  of  such  a  biography  as  this,  and  that  of 
a  man  whose  life  is  only  remarkable  for  success  in 
bloodshed,  or  even  in  the  more  vulgar  paths  of  vice, 
knavery,  or  crime  !  What  a  debt  of  gratitude  does 
the  world  owe  to  Franklin !  What  a  weight  of  con 
demnation  should  rest  upon  him  who  degrades  and 
debases  those  who  come  within  the  sphere  of  his 
influence,  by  exciting  and  seductive  narratives  of  the 
little  or  the  great  rascals  who  are  sent  as  scourges 
and  warnings  to  our  race  ! 

One  of  the  most  grateful  things  in  my  experiencb 
among  the  middle  classes  in  England,  France,  and 
Germany,  is,  that  I  have  been  there  recognized  as 
the  countryman  of  Franklin,  and  by  virtue  of  this, 
have  been  often  received  as  a  friend.  There  is  no 
part  of  Europe  that  I  have  visited,  where  the  name 
of  Franklin  is  not  known  and  honored — except,  per 
haps,  in  Italy.  There  the  atmosphere  is  not  of  a 
nature  to  permit  such  a  history  as  his,  to  shed  its 
beneficent  light  upon  the  hearts  of  the  people.  The 


4: 1  6  LKTTER8 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

mythologies  of  the  Virgin  and  the  saints  are  deemed 
safer  reading — safer,  because  they  darken  rather  than 
enlighten  the  mind — than  the  history  of  a  Boston 
printer,  whose  whole  life  is  a  lecture  in  behalf  of  the 
elevating  power  of  liberty  of  thought  and  action. 
With  this  exception,  Franklin's  story  of  his  early 
life,  his  humble  apprenticeship,  his  patient  struggles, 
his  plodding  industry,  his  rise,  step  by  step,  from 
poverty  to  independence,  and  all  this  within  the 
possible  and  probable  sphere  of  common  life — seems 
actually  to  have  been  a  gospel  of  good  tidings  to  the 
European  masses  of  modern  times.  Let  me  go  on, 
then,  my  dear  C....,  countenanced,  if  not  encour 
aged,  by  this  example.  Be  it  well  understood,  how 
ever,  that  if  you  are  disheartened  at  the  specimens  I 
have  furnished,  I  give  you  leave  to  depart,  and  with 
no  offence  to  me.  Good-by,  my  friend — if  it  must  be 
so — and  peace  be  with  thee ! 


H1STOKICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  417 


LETTER   XXVI. 

My  Situation  under  my  new  Hasten- — Discontent — Humiliating  Discov 
eries  —  Desire  to  quit  Trade  and  go  to  College  —  Undertake  to  Re 
educate  myself — A  Long  Struggle — Partial  Success — Infidelity — The 
World  without  a  God — Existence,  Nature,  Life,  all  contradiction*,  with 
out  Revealed  Religion — Return  after  long  Wanderings. 

MY  DEAR  C  ****** 

I  have  received  your  kind  letter,  giving  your 
adhesion  to  what  I  have  done,  though  counseling 
me  to  be  less  discursive  in  my  narrative  hereafter. 
Taking  this  in  good  part,  and  promising  amendment, 
I  proceed  in  my  story. 

I  was,  then,  eighteen  years  of  age,  installed  in  a 
dry-goods  store  at  Hartford,  under  a  respectable  and 
reasonable  master.  I  had  been  sufficiently  educated 
for  my  station.  My  parents  had  now  removed  from 
Ridgefield  to  Berlin,  a  distance  of  but  eleven  miles 
from  my  present  residence,  so  that  I  had  easy  and 
frequent  communication  with  them.  My  uncle, 
Chauncey  Goodrich,  then  a  Senator  of  the  United 
States,  lived  in  an  almost  contiguous  street,  and 
while  in  the  city,  always  treated  me  with  the  kind 
ness  and  consideration  which  my  relation  to  him  nat 
urally  dictated.  In  general,  then,  my  situation  was 
eligible  enough  ;  and  yet  I  was  unhappy. 

The  truih  is,  I  had  now  been  able  to  sit  in  judg 
ment  upon  myself — to  review  my  acquirements,  to 
18* 


418  LKTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

analyze  my  capacities,  to  estimate  my  character — to 
compare  myself  with  others,  and  see  a  little  into 
the  future.  The  decision  was  painful  to  the  ambi 
tion  which  lurked  within  me.  I  had  all  along,  un 
consciously,  cherished  a  vague  idea  of  some  sort  of 
eminence,  and  this  unhappily  had  nothing  to  do  with 
selling  goods  or  making  money.  I  had  lived  in 
the  midst  of  relations,  friends,  and  alliances,  all  of 
which  had  cultivated  in  me  trains  of  thought  alien  to 
my  present  employment.  My  connections  were  re 
spectable  :  some  of  them  eminent,  but  none  of  them 
rich  ;  all  had  acquired  their  positions  without  wealth, 
and  I  think  it  was  rather  their  habit  to  speak  of  it 
as  a  very  secondary  affair.  Brought  up  under  such 
influences,  how  could  I  give  my  heart  to  trade?  It 
was  clear,  indeed,  that  I  had  missed  my  vocation. 

Full  of  this  conviction,  I  besought  my  parents  to 
allow  me  to  quit  the  store,  and  attempt  to  make  my 
way  through  college.*  Whether  for  good  or  ill,  !• 

*  When  I  wrote  this  letter,  I  was  living  at  Conrbevoie,  near  Paris. 
About  that  time,  a  gentleman  from  Connecticut  (Mr.  Gilmau),  whom  I 
lin  J  accidentally  met  in  Paris,  and  of  whom  I  had  made  some  inquiries  re 
specting  certain  eminent  men  of  that  State,  came  to  visit  me,  and  brought 
me  several  pamphlets, -and  among  them  a  catalogue  of  Yale  College,  inti- 
ninting  that  he  supposed  I  mast  take  an  interest  in  the  latter,  as  I  was 
one  of  its  graduates.  I  told  him  this  must  be  a  mistake,  but  he  took 
tin-,  book  and  showed  me  that  I  was  made  an  honorary  A.  M.  by  that 
institution  in  1848  !  This,  however,  was  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  of 
it.  Thus,  after  all,  though  I  never  went  to  college,  I  got  into  the  cata- 
l.ijrue,  but  nearly  forty  years  after  these  my  youthful  aspirations.  [ 
was  a  long  time  in  passing  my  examination,  and  getting  my  degree ; 
itii'l  if  the  learned  gentlemen,  who  bestowed  upon  me  this  act  of  grace, 
luul  known  how  little  of  their  sort  of  learning!  really  possessed,  I  doubt 
if  t!;ey  h:id  evergrantedto  me  so  high  a  rank.  Several  years  before,  some- 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAI.,  KTC.  4:11) 

know  not,  but  they  decided  against  the  change,  and 
certainly  on  substantial  grounds.  Their  circum 
stances  did  not  permit  them  to  offer  me  any  consid 
erable  aid,  and  without  it  they  feared  that  I  should 
meet  with  insuperable  difficulties.  I  returned  to  the 
store,  disheartened  at  first,  but  after  a  time  my  cour 
age  revived,  and  I  resolved  to  re-educate  myself.  I 
borrowed  some  Latin  books,  and  with  the  aid  of 
George  Sheldon,  I  passed  through  the  Latin  Gram 
mar,  and  penetrated  a  little  way  into  Virgil.  This 
was  done  at  night,  for  during  the  day  I  was  fully  o-i- 
cupied. 

At  the  same  time,  I  began — with  such  light  and 
strength  as  I  possessed — to  train  my  mind — to  disci 
pline  my  thoughts,  then  as  untamed  as  the  birds  of 
the  wilderness.  I  sought  to  think — to  think  steadily, 
to  acquire  the  power  of  forcing  my  understanding  up 
to  a  point,  and  make  it  stand  there  and  do  its  work. 
I  attempted  to  gain  the  habit  of  speaking  methodi 
cally,  logically,  and  with  accumulating  power,  direct 
ed  to  a  particular  object.  I  did  all  this  as  well  by  study 
as  practice.  I  read  Locke  on  the  Understanding  and 
Watts  on  the  Mind.  I  attempted  composition,  and 
aided  myself  by  Blair's  Rhetoric. 

This  was  a  task,  for  not  only  was  my  time  chiefly 
occupied  by  my  daily  duties,  but  it  was  a  contest 

body  addressed  me  an  official  letter,  informing  me  that  a  similar  honor 
had  been  bestowed  upon  me  by  the  college  at  Williamstown,  but  I  never 
liked  to  inquire  about  it,  for  fear  it  should  turn  out  to  be  a  joke. 
What,  indeed,  have  my  attainments  to  do  with  college  honors  I 


i20  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

against  habit — it  was  myself  against  myself — and  in 
this  I  was  almost  unaided  and  alone.  I  believe  few 
have  this  experience,  for  most  persons  have  progress 
ive,  methodical  education.  Their  advance  up  the 
steep  ascent  of  knowledge  is  gradual,  measured  step 
by  step ;  and  this  process  is  performed  in  youth,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  instructors,  and  all  so  gently, 
as  to  pass  by  without  the  consciousness  of  any  great 
or  painful  effort,  even  by  the  subject  of  it.  A  person 
who  has  acquired  an  education  in  the  usual  way — 
under  the  steady  training  of  teachers,  from  childhood 
to  the  period  of  graduation — does  not  appreciate  in 
his  feelings  the  amount  of  labor  heaped  rfp  in  this 
protracted  struggle.  If  we  consider,  however,  the 
momentum  at  last  accumulated  in  the  simple  act  of 
reading,  for  instance — the  eye  with  electric  celerity 
compassing  every  letter  in  a  line,  and  the  mind  as 
quickly  seizing  upon  every  thought,  mastering  it, 
and  passing  on,  the  soul  meanwhile  giving  to  each 
conception  its  due  feeling  and  emotion — we  shall 
have  a  measure  by  which  we  may  form  some  esti 
mate  of  the  magnitude  of  that  structure  in  the 
mind,  called  education.  It  was  a  work  of  this  sort, 
with  the  habits  acquired  in  its  formation,  that  I  was 
to  undo  and  do  over  again.  It  was  my  fortune  to 
find  that  I  had  gone  wrong,  and  must  retrace  my 
steps.  I  was  to  tear  to  pieces  the  labor,  the  practices, 
the  associations  of  years,  and  at  the  same  time  I  was 
to  reconstruct  the  broken  and  shattered  fragments 


HISTOKICAL,  ANEODOTICAL,  ETC.  4li  I 

into  a  new  and  symmetrical  edifice.  I  was  to  lay 
aside  the  slip-shod  practice  of  satisfying  myself  with 
impressions,  feelings,  guesses ;  in  short,  of  dodging 
mental  labor  by  jumping  at  conclusions.  I  was 
to  teach  myself  the  art,  and  to  train  myself  to  the 
habit,  of  accumulating  materials  ;  of  assorting  them 
according  to  their  several  kinds  ;  of  weighing  them 
in  a  just  and  scrutinizing  balance ;  of  rearranging 
them  on  principles  of  logic,  and  finally,  of  deducing 
from  them  a  safe  and  reliable  judgment.  I  was,  in 
deed,  to  learn  the  greatest  of  all  arts,  that  of  reason-' 
ing,  of  discovering  the  truth,  and  I  was  to  do  this 
alone,  and  in  the  face  of  difficulties,  partly  founded 
in  my  mental  constitution,  and  partly  also  in  my 
training. 

I  did  not  at  first  comprehend  the  extent  of  my  un 
dertaking.  By  degrees  I  began  to  appreciate  it :  I 
saw  and  felt,  at  last,  that  it  was  an  enormous  tasK, 
and  even  after  I  had  resolved  upon  it,  again  and 
again,  my  courage  gave  out,  and  I  ceased  my  ef 
forts  in  despair.  Still,  I  returned  to  the  work  by 
spasms.  I  found,  for  instance,  that  my  geography 
was  all  wrong :  Asia  stood  up  edgewise,  in  my 
imagination,  just  as  I  had  seen  it  on  an  old  smoky 
map  in  Lieutenant  Smith's  study :  Africa  was  in 
the  southeast  corner  of  creation,  and  Europe  was 
somewhere  in  the  northeast.  In  fact,  my  map  of 
the  world  was  very  Chinese  in  its  projection.  I 
knew  better,  but  still  I  had  thus  conceived  it.  and 


422  LETTERS— BIOGRAPHICAL, 

the  obstinate  bump  of  locality  insisted  upon  pre 
senting  its  outlines  to  my  mind,  according  to  this  ar 
rangement.  I  bad  similar  jumbles  of  conception  and 
habit,  as  to  other  things.  This  would  not  do :  so  I 
relearned  the  elements  of  geography ;  I  revised  my 
history,  my  chronology,  my  natural  history — in  all 
of  which  I  had  caught  casual  glimpses  of  knowledge. 
Finding  my  memory  bad  for  dates,  I  made  a  list  of 
chronological  eras,  from  the  Creation  down,  and  riv 
eted  them  by  repetition,  in  my  memory.  What  I 
read,  I  read  .earnestly.  I  determined  to  pass  no  word 
without  ascertaining  its  meaning,  and  I  persevered  ill 
this,  doggedly,  for  five  and  twenty  years. 

Now,  after  all  these  my  efforts,  I  only  skimmed  the 
surface  of  knowledge :  I  did  not  even  reach  the  depths 
of  a  thorough  college  education.  In  some  degree,  I 
cleared  up  the  wilderness  of  my  mind ;  in  some  de 
gree  methodized  my  habits  of  thought ;  in  some  de 
gree  made  myself  the  master  of  my  faculties  and  my 
knowledge.  I  learned  to  think  more  clearly,  to  speak 
more  logically,  and  to  write  more  methodically — 
within  the  range  of  my  acquisitions.  Still,  I  only 
reached  the  precincts  of  what  may  be  called  educa 
tion,  in  a  just  sense  of  the  term.  In  after  years, 
when  I  have  been  called  upon  to  write  upon  a  partic 
ular  subject,  I  have  generally  been  first  obliged  to  sit 
down  and  study  it,  or  at  least  to  refresh  my  mind  by 
reviewing  it. 

With  this  inadequate  preparation,  however,  I  rash- 


HISTORICAL,  ANEODOTICAL,  ETC.  423 

ly  began  to  form  my  own  opinions — the  most  daring 
action  of  the  mind.  I  ventured  to  question  dogmas 
— moral,  political,  and  religious.  I  passed  through 
the  several  stages  of  curiosity,  doubt,  infidelity,  as 
many  others  have  done  before  rne.  I  resolved  to  take 
nothing  upon  trust ;  I  must  examine  and  decide  for 
myself.  Beginning  with  things  familiar  and  secular, 
I  came  at  last  to  things  remote,  doctrinal,  theological. 
I  approached  the  sacred  edifice  of  religion,  and  in  a 
moment  of  presumption,  tumbled  it  into  a  heap  of 
ruins !  And  then  ?  Ah,  how  impossible  to  paint  the 
dark,  drear  horizon  of  the  mind  when  it  has  put  out 
the  light  of  faith :  extinguished  even  the  star  of  hope  ! 
The  world  from  that  moment  became  to  me  a  fearful 
enigma :  all  its  harmony  was  gone :  existence  was  a 
nightmare,  heaven  a  fathomless  abyss,  earth  an  incom 
prehensible  mystery.  And  Man,  of  all  the  creatures 
upon  earth,  was  the  most  mysterious — above  all  things, 
and  yet  below  all  things.  The  bird  had  organs  adapted 
to  its  wants — feet  for  the  land  and  wings  for  the  air. 
The  fishes  had  fins  suited  to  their  element ;  the  quad 
rupeds  were  all  provided  with  the  means  of  securing 
happiness  according  to  their  several  tastes  and  facul 
ties.  Wherever  there  was  a  want,  the  means  of  sat 
isfying  it  were  bestowed.  Every  thing  was  con 
sistent  with  itself.  Nothing  was  made  in  vain :  in 
the  whole  range  of  nature,  there  was  no  absurdity, 
no  contradiction,  no  mistake.  Every  thing  attained 
its  end,  everv  thing  fulfilled  its  design  savo  M;m 


424  LKTTKKS IUOGKAPHICAL, 

alone !  He  had  wants  for  which  there  was  no  pro 
vision  :  he  had  hunger  and  thirst  of  the  soul,  yet 
there  was  nothing  to  feed  the  one,  or  quench  the  other! 
He  had  the  gift  of  hope,  but  was  hopeless ;  the  fac 
ulty  of  faith,  with  nothing  on  which  faith  could  set 
its  foot.  He  had  anticipation — a  looking  forward  into 
the  future — wafting  him  thither  like  a  trade-wind,  and 
breathing  of  the  tropic  air  of  immortality.  He  yearn 
ed  for  something  higher  than  earth,  but  was  without 
wings  to  fly,  or  an  object  amid  the  prevailing  waters — 
the  universal  deluge  of  doubt — upon  which  he  could 
find  repose  !  The  dove  of  hope  was  sent  forth,  but 
came  back  with  no  olive-branch  of  peace,  no  promise 
of  a  shore  to  this  bleak  sea  of  nothingness!  The 
veriest  insect,  the  worm,  the  reptile,  each  and  all, 
had  every  thing  needful  to  perfect  its  being.  Man 
alone  seemed  created  to  live  in  doubt,  and  to  perish 
in  disappointment.  The  inferior  things  of  earth  were 
perfect ;  the  conscious  lord  of  creation  was  a  stu 
pendous  blunder !  Thus  seemed  the  universe ;  thus 
seemed  man,  without  God — without  religion. 

"  I  had  a  dream,  which  was  not  all  a  dream — 
The  bright  sun  was  extinguish'd,  and  the  stars 
Did  wander  darkling  in  the  eternal  space, 
Rayless  and  pathless,  and  the  icy  earth 
Swung,  blind  and  black'ning,  in  the  moonless  air. 
*  *  *  *  * 

The  crowd  was  famish'd  by  degrees ;  but  two 

Of  an  enormous  city  did  survive, 

And  they  were  enemies :  they  met  beside 


HISTORICAL,  ANEODOTICAL,  KTC.  425 

The  (lying  embers  of  an  altar-place, 

"Where  had  been  heap'd  a  mass  of  holy  things, 

For  an  unholy  usage :  they  raked  up, 

And  shivering,  scraped  with  their  cold,  skeleton  hands, 

The  feeble  ashes,  and  their  feeble  breath 

Blew  for  a  little  life,  and  made  a  flame, 

Which  was  a  mockery  :  then  they  lifted  up 

Their  eyes,  as  it  grew  brighter,  and  beheld 

Each  other's  aspects — saw  and  shriek'd  and  died — 

E'en  of  their  mutual  hideousness,  they  died!" 

Such  is  the  fearful,  overwhelming  picture  of  the 
Earth,  if  you  pluck  the  sun  from  the  heavens  :  bring 
back  that  glorious  orb,  and  all  its  light  and  harmony 
and  beauty  are  restored.  In  this,  the  Natural  World 
is  but  an  image  of  the  Moral  World. 

This  Earth  without  a  Sun  to  give  it  light, 

Would  roll  a  wintry  planet  robed  in  night. 

All  that  we  see  of  beauty — trees  and  flowers — 

All  that  we  hear  of  music  in  their  bowers, 

Live  on  the  bounty  of  that  Orb  above — 

Nature's  exhaustless  source  of  life  and  love. 

And  Man,  if  not  illumed  of  Heaven's  light, 

Renew'd  each  morn  and  stealing  through  the  night, 

Dark  as  a  planet  exiled  from  the  sun, 

His  savage  course  of  crime  and  shame  would  run. 

As  blushing  flowers  with  spreading  odors  rise — 

As  balmy  zephyrs  steal  from  southern  skies — 

As  rills  unchain'd  with  gladdening  murmurs  play — 

As  birds  return  and  pour  the  rapturous  lay — 

As  nature  rises  from  its  wintry  night — 

All  at  the  bidding  of  the  Source  of  Light — 

So  every  virtue  blooming  in  the  soul, 

Is  warm'd  to  life  by  Heaven's  kind  control ! 


4:26  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Indeed,  take  religion  from  man,  and  you  dethrone 
God  from  the  sky  :  you  banish  the  light  from  the 
soul,  you  convert  its  highest  faculties  into  elements 
of  fear,  terror,  and  despair.  Love,  that  seems  to 
breathe  of  heaven,  to  lift  us  on  its  wing  toward  a 
better  and  happier  and  holier  clime,  sinks  into  lust : 
affection  into  selfishness  ;  friendship  into  an  illusive 
dream.  In  this  view,  man  is  only  a  superior  sort 
of  beast,  to  live,  despair,  and  perish.  Bring  back 
religion,  and  the  light  returns  to  the  mind :  under 
its  influences,  the  warm  pulses  of  affection  and  friend- 
snip  and  piety  and  poetry  once  more  beat  in  the 
bosom :  the  winter  of  desolation  gives  way  to  the 
spring-tide  of  hope.  Man  is  no  longer  a  beast,  ex 
istence  no  longer  a  riddle,  creation  no  more  a  contra 
diction.  Nature,  before  a  stupendous  lie,  is  now  a 
glorious  truth ! 

To  this  conclusion  I  came  at  last,  though  after  a 
long  and  painful  struggle.  God  was  as  much  reveal 
ed  to  man  as  the  earth,  the  sky,  the  sun :  that  was 
now  settled  in  my  mind,  but  it  was  not  enough. 
What  was  our  relation  to  Him  ?  What  was  human 
destiny  ?  What  meant  this  inward  faith  that  makes 
of  the  Creator  an  object  of  worship,  of  love,  of  hope, 
of  confidence  ?  What  means  the  heart  of  prayer  in 
every  human  breast?  Is  it  only  an  instinct,  telling 
us  to  pray,  and  then  leaving  us  to  perish  ?  Is  that 
the  way  of  God  ?  Does  He  tell  us  to  hope,  that  He 
may  cheat  us  of  his  promises  ?  Has  God  made  man 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  427 

to  bear  through  life  the  burden  of  doubt,  and  to  carry- 
it  with  him  to  the  grave  ?  Is  there,  in  short,  no  rev 
elation  for  man  beyond  the  simple  fact  that  there  is 
a  God — told  us  by  our  common  sense,  by  our  in 
stinct,  by  the  voice  of  nature  and  of  creation  ?  In 
these  things  His  woric  is  complete ;  in  that  it  is  evi 
dently  imperfect.  Man  has  in  him  desires,  wants, 
anticipations,  exigencies,  which  are  not  satisfied  by 
this  mere  light  of  nature.  Without  a  further  revela 
tion,  he  is  like  the  bird,  made  to  fly,  yet  without 
wings  ;  like  the  fish,  formed  to  swim,  yet  without  fins. 
He  is  an  anomaly  in  the  universe  :  the  only  thing 
that  walks  erect  in  God's  image,  is  the  only  thing 
that  God  has  made  in  vain,  and  worse  than  in  vain ! 
There  is,  then,  another  revelation,  for  we  must  not 
charge  the  Omnipotent  with  incompetence,  the  Omni 
scient  with  ignorance,  the  Omnipresent  with  forget 
ful  ness.  We  must  not,  in  his  greatest  work,  discover 
a  negation  of  all  his  perfections,  conspicuous  in  all 
other  things.  What,  then,  is  this  revelation  ?  It  was 
given  to  Adam  face  to  face,  by  the  Almighty ;  it  has 
since  descended  in  various  ways,  and  at  different  eras, 
upon  mankind  ;  it  has  existed,  and  still  exists,  in  all 
nations,  though  it  may  be  seen  by  many  races  as 
through  a  glass  darkly.  But  the  whole  force  of  God's 
highest  revelations  to  man,  is  accumulated  in  the 
Bible,  and  especially  in  the  Gospel — the  life,  char 
acter,  and  redemption  of  Christ.  The  unenlightened 
may  be  led  by  duller  light :  this  is  adapted  to  civil- 


4:28  LETTERS BIOGKAPIflOAL, 

ized  nations.  Those  may  find  their  hunger  and  thirst 
of  soul  appeased  by  what  nature  yields  ;  but  the  in 
structed  man  needs  the  full  effulgence  of  such  a  reve 
lation  as  this. 

And  thus,  after  many  wanderings,  like  one  long 
lest  in  the  wilderness — like  one  wearied  and  worn 
with  struggling  in  a  marsh,  I  came  back  to  the  con 
viction  of  my  fathers — that  the  Bible  is  the  revealed 
will  of  God;  as  much  adapted  to  us,  as  necessary 
for  us,  as  the  light  to  the  eye,  the  air  to  the  lungs ; 
as  indispensable  to  the  life  of  the  soul,  as  food  and 
drink  to  the  body,  in  which  the  soul  is  enshrined. 

This  work  was  not  performed  at  once,  or  by  one 
continuous  effort ;  it  was  a  long  internal  struggle, 
coming  upon  me  in  spasms — sometimes  by  day  and 
sometimes  by  night.  Often  it  subsided  into  settled 
doubt  or  desponding  apathy  ;  often  it  returned  like 
a  tempest  to  agitate  and  overwhelm  me.  It  was,  in 
deed,  prolonged  through  several  years,  and  even  after 
I  had  seemed  to  come  to  the  dry  land,  like  the  ark 
amid  the  subsiding  deluge,  difficulties  and  doubts 
sometimes  haunted  me.  I  was,  in  fact,  not  yet  a  be 
liever.  Infidelity  is  a  long,  dark  voyage,  and  offers 
no  secure  haven  of  rest  or  repose.  I  have  been  ac 
quainted  with  several  professed  deists  and  atheists — 
some  of  the  very  first  order  of  mind — yet  I  have  never 
found  one  who  was  not,  in  fact,  afloat  on  a  sea  of  un 
certainty,  tossed  with  doubt  and  racked  with  anxiety. 

My  stumbling-blocks,  at  this  period,  were  chiefly 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOT1CAL,  ETC. 

of  that  class  called  metaphysical,  yet  they  were  to 
me  real,  earnest,  operative.  The  existence  of  evil  in 
a  world  made  and  governed  by  God  ;  the  free  agency 
of  man,  deriving  from  the  Almighty  his  being  and 
his  breath  ;  the  moral  responsibility  of  creatures,  de 
pendent  for  all  things  upon  the  Creator  ;  the  seeming 
predestination  flowing  from  Omnipotence,  with  the 
consciousness  of  liberty  of  thought  and  action  plant 
ed  in  every  bosom :  these  and  other  rocks  in  this 
voyage  of  the  immortal  mind  —  strewn  with  the 
wrecks  of  millions — were  still  anxious  mysteries  to 
me.  And  then,  that  dreadful  incompatibility  upon 
which  audacious  human  reason  drives  us — that  every 
thing  must  have  a  beginning,  and  yet  just  as  cer 
tainly,  that  all  things  spring  from  the  Eternal !  What 
a  stunning  blow,  leveled  at  the  pride  of  logic,  is  this  ? 
How  is  the  mind  humbled,  admitting  as  it  must,  that 
all  we  see  and  know  of  time  and  eternity,  is  but  the 
vibration  of  a  pendulum,  whose  spring  is  hidden  from 
our  sight !  Long,  often  and  anxiously,  did  I  return 
to  these  questions,  thundering — sometimes  almost  in 
frenzy — at  the  sullen,  silent,  impenetrable  door,  which 
holds  their  solution  from  the  view.  I  learned  at  last 
that  I  was  only  doing  what  had  been  done  by  thou 
sands  before — that  I  was  attempting  what  the  wisest 
and  strongest  had  given  up  in  despair.  I  saw  that 
the  mind  was  bounded  in  its  powers  as  well  as  the 
body  ;  that  as  the  latter  could  not  defy  the  laws  of 
gravitation,  so  the  former  could  not  rend  the  curtain 


430  LKTTEKS BIOGKAPillCAL, 

that  God  had  hung  between  the  creature  and  the 
Creator.  I  bowed  at  last ;  I  ceased  to  agonize  upon 
things  beyond  my  reach.  I  turned  to  my  actual  du 
ties  ;  I  cultivated  the  gifts  of  nature  and  Providence 
vouchsafed  to  me  ;  I  cherished  the  lights  and  not  the 
shadows  of  existence.  And  once  more  I  was  upon  the 
land !  I  was  again  at  home  ;  I  had  indeed  wandered, 
yet  not  perhaps  unprofitably,  for  I  had  learned  to 
find  peace  and  contentment  in  what  God  had  be 
stowed  upon  me,  without  seeking  that  forbidden  fruit 
of  knowledge,  of  which  He  has  said,  "  In  the  day 
thou  eatest  thereof  thou  shalt  die." 

During  the  dark  and  cloudy  period  which  I  have 
just  sketched,  George  Sheldon  was  my  constant  com 
panion.  I  had  made  other  acquaintances,  and  had 
other  friends,  but  he  was  first,  if  not  in  my  affections, 
at  least  in  my  confidence.  He  had  a  far  more  com 
manding  intellect,  more  knowledge,  more  depth  of 
reflection,  more  range  of  thought  and  experience,  than 
myself.  I  consulted  him  in  my  studies  ;  I  submitted 
my  progress  to  his  examination ;  I  showed  him  my 
compositions,  and  invited  his  criticisms. 

Some  persons  seem  to  write  with  a  certain  matu 
rity  of  thought  and  expression,  almost  upon  their  first 
attempts ;  others  only  attain  the  art  of  composition 
by  long  and  patient  labor.  As  for  myself,  I  came  to 
what  I  possess  by  reiterated  trials.  I  do  not  know 
of  a  decent  thing — not  even  a  letter — that  I  wrote 
before  I  was  twenty.  How  my  monitorial  guide  did 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIGAL,  ETC.  4:31 

laugh  at  some  of  my  first  attempts  at  composition, 
and  especially  at  my  tilts  and  tournaments  upon  Par 
nassus  ! 

As  I  have  said,  we  were  unlike,  and  in  nothing  so 
much  as  in  our  mental  constitution.  His  taste  was 
mature,  mine  crude  and  fantastic;  his  mind  was  lo 
gical,  mine  irregular  and  discursive  ;  his  was  circum 
spect,  modest,  prudent — mine  daring,  rash,  audacious. 
In  our  discussions,  he  constantly  said  to  me,  "  Stick 
to  the  point !"  In  regard  to  my  writings,  he  often 
remarked,  "  You  have  more  illustrations  than  ideas." 
In  an  argument,  he  would  observe,  "  Stop  a  moment: 
do  you  know  what  we  are  talking  about  ?"  When 
we  approached  some  metaphysical  gulf,  he  would  say, 
"  Come,  come,  I  have  looked  over  there,  and  I  can 
assure  you  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  it." 

Above  and  beyond  all  this,  my  friend  aided  me  in 
the  more  serious  business  of  settling  my  religious 
opinions.  He  had  thought  long  and  profoundly  upon 
the  agitating  questions  which  I  have  mentioned,  and 
in  considering  them  I  had  the  benefit  of  his  clear  in 
telligence  and  just  judgment.  That  I  escaped  ship 
wreck,  was  doubtless  owing  in  some  degree  to  him : 
I  certainly  reached  the  shore  sooner  than  I  could  have 
done  alone. 

The  importance  of  such  counsel,  at  this  period,  can 
not  be  estimated  without  considering  that  I  had  been 
brought  up  under  the  impression  that  an  infidel — 
nay,  a  doubter,  a  questioner,  even — was  a  monster, 


432  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

who  challenged  riot  only  the  reprobation  of  man,  but 
the  instant  wrath  of  God.  The  preaching  I  heard, 
the  tone  of  society  around  me,  confirmed  this  feeling. 
I  dared  not  ask  advice,  especially  of  the  devout,  for 
I  dreaded  to  confess  myself  that  fearful  thing — an 
unbeliever !  At  that  time  I  slept  in  an  upper  room  of 
a  large  block  of  brick  buildings,  without  another  hu 
man  being  in  them,  and  never  have  I  known  the 
nights  so  black,  so  long,  so  dismal,  as  during  the  pe 
riods  when  I  awoke  from  sleep,  and  in  the  solitude  of 
my  chamber,  wrestled  with  the  tormenting  questions 
already  alluded  to,  which  came  like  Inquisitors,  to 
put  me  upon  the  rack  of  anxiety  and  doubt.  The 
friendly  sympathy  and  judicious  guidance  of  my 
sturdy  and  steadfast  friend,  saved  me,  perhaps,  from 
despair. 

I  have  since  this  period  often  thought,  with  a  feel 
ing  of  self-reproach,  of  the  moral  and  mental  obli 
quity  involved  in  infidelity,  especially  on  the  part  of 
one  brought  up  as  I  had  been.  What  is  infidelity — 
here  in  a  Christian  land  ?  An  assumption  that  God 
has  left  to  the  world  no  authenticated  testimony  of 
his  Will.  Revelation  is  a  fable  :  religion  a  bugbear. 
What,  then,  is  the  condition  of  man  ?  History — 
recent,  reliable,  unmistakable — has  given  the  answer. 
He  who  runs  may  and  must  read.  During  the  first 
French  Revolution,  the  government  abolished  reli 
gion,  and  the  people  sanctioned  the  decree.  Let 
us  draw  nigh  and  contemplate  the  spectacle  of  a 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  433 

nation  without  a  God,  without  a  faith — without  hope, 
and  without  fear.  Look  at  Paris,  at  that  period — the 
world's  metropolis  of  art,  taste,  fashion,  and  refine 
ment,  rejoicing  in  its  deliverance  from  the  nightmare 
of  religion  !  Look,  and  you  will  see  that  marriage  was 
a  farce,  and  that  truth  had  sunk  into  contempt.  The 
streets  were  filled  with  indecency,  and  the  saloons  were 
no  better  than  garnished  brothels.  Death  was  divested 
of  its  solemnity,  and  the  grave  of  its  sanctity.  Even 
kindred  could  not  spare  time  from  their  levities  and 
debaucheries  to  bury  their  deceased  relatives.  And 
why  should  they  ?  They  had  gone  to  their  eternal 
sleep,  and  it  was  illogical  to  care  for  the  manes  of 
those  who  had  ceased  to  be.  Nothingness — annihi 
lation  of  the  soul — left  no  sympathy  for  its  worn- 
out  and  cast-off  vestment,  the  body.  There  was  no 
hereafter,  no  heaven,  no  elevating  hope,  no  salutary 
fear.  There  was  no  reality  but  the  present.  No 
hymn  of  praise,  no  prayer,  no  rising  incense,  lifted 
the  soul  above  this  dreadful  revelry.  Man  was  left 
to  cherish  his  baser  propensities,  without  a  wish  or 
a  thought,  which  could  drag  him  out  of  the  miry  clay 
and  the  horrible  pit ! 

This  spectacle  is  as  revolting  to  the  moral  taste  of 
man,  as  is  a  mass  of  filth — reeking  with  corruption — 
to  his  senses.  And  yet  this  is  the  condition  to  which 
infidelity  inevitably  tends.  It  is  religion  alone — 
revealed  religion — which  saves  the  world  from  this 
state  of  degradation.  Paris  has  written  that  fact  in 

VOL.  I.— iy 


434  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

fire  and  in  blood.  Is  this  religion,  then,  a  lie  ?  Is  rev 
elation,  which  thus  works  man's  redemption  here  on 
earth — to  say  nothing  of  the  future — a  fraud  ?  What 
then  is  God — the  infidel's  God  ?  A  being  who  made 
man  to  live  and  die  and  perish,  only  as  an  ingenious 
and  gifted  brute !  He  is  not  the  author  of  that  reli 
gion  which  ennobles  man,  exalts  his  faculties,  his 
tastes,  his  aspirations,  and  constantly  seeks  to  make 
him  but  little  lower  than  the  angels.  He  is  not  the 
God  of  good,  but  of  Evil — not  the  Author  of  Light, 
but  of  Darkness — not  the  King  of  Heaven,  but  ol 
Hell.  This  is  the  infidel's  God. 

Where,  in  Nature,  is  this  fearful  thing  written  ? 
Not  in  the  sun  or  the  sky  or  the  seasons,  for  these 
tell  us  that  God  is  good.  Not  in  the  human  heart, 
for  this  feels  that  God  is  true.  Not  in  .the  eye  that 
loves  beauty,  nor  the  ear  that  loves  music.  Every 
sense  whispers  that  God  is  Love.  It  is  indeed  a 
dreadful  obliquity,  which  leads  the  mind  to  refuse  to 
see  God  in  the  Bible  Revelation,  and  to  refuse  to  ac 
cept  Christianity  as  his  gospel  of  good  and  glorious 
tidings  to  man. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  435 


LETTER  XXVII. 

Hartford  forty  years  ago — The  Hartford  Wits — Hartford  at  the  present 
time — The  Declaration  of  War  in  1812 — Baltimore  Riots — Feeling  in 
New  England — Embargo — Non-intercourse,  &c. — Democratic  Doctrine 
that  Opposition  is  Treason. 

MY  DEAR  C  ****** 

The  city  of  Hartford,  ever  noted  for  its  fine  sit 
uation,  in  one  of  the  fertile  and  beautiful  vales  of  the 
Connecticut,  is  now  distinguished  for  its  wealth — the 
fruit  of  extraordinary  sagacity  and  enterprise  on  the 
part  of  its  inhabitants — as  well  as  for  its  interesting 
institutions — literary,  charitable,  and  philanthropic. 
It  presented,  however,  a  different  aspect  at  the  time 
of  which  I  am  speaking.  It  had,  indeed,  formerly 
enjoyed  some  reputation  as  a  sort  of  literary  focus — 
it  being  the  residence  of  Trumbull,  the  author  of 
McFingal,  of  Hopkins,  the  bludgeon  satirist,  author 
of  the  "  Hypocrite's  Hope,"  of  Theodore  Dwight,  and 
some  others,  known  in  their  day  as  the  "  Hartford 
Wits."  This  distinction  was  well  deserved,  for  it  ia 
rare  indeed  that  three  satirical  poets,  of  so  much  vig 
or,  are  found  working  together.  It  is  especially  rare 
to  find  them,  as  in  this  instance,  united  in  an  amica 
ble  as  well  as  a  literary  brotherhood. 

In  my  time  Hopkins  was  dead ;  Trumbull  had  left 
off  poetry  for  a  seat  on  the  bench  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  and  Dwight  was  devoted  to  the  Connecticut 


LKTTKKS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Mirror — a  newspaper  distinguished  all  over  the  coun 
try  for  its  vigilant  and  spicy  vindication  of  federal 
ism.  His  New- Year's  verses  were  always  looked  for 
with  eagerness,  for  they  usually  contained  a  review  of 
events,  with  dashes  at  the  times,  in  which  the  doings 
of  democracy  were  painted  in  the  unsparing  colors 
of  Hudibrastic  ridicule.  Many  passages  of  these  are 
now  worthy  of  being  read,  as  well  on  account  of  their 
illustration  of  the  spirit  of  the  time,  as  their  keen 
and  cutting  satire. 

On  the  whole,  however,  Hartford  was  then  a  small 
commercial  town,  of  four  thousand  inhabitants,  deal 
ing  in  lumber,  and  smelling  of  molasses  and  Old  Ja 
maica — for  it  had  still  some  trade  with  the  West  In 
dies.  Though  the  semi-capital  of  the  State — the  yearly 
sessions  of  the  legislature  being  held  there  and  at  New 
Haven,  alternately — it  was  strongly  impressed  with 
a  plodding,  mercantile,  and  mechanical  character. 
There  was  a  high  tone  of  general  intelligence  and  so 
cial  respectability  about  the  place,  but  it  had  not  a 
single  institution,  a  single  monument,  that  marked  it 
as  even  a  provincial  metropolis  of  taste,  in  literature, 
art,  or  refinement.  The  leading  men  were  thrifty 
mechanics,  with  a  few  merchants,  and  many  shop 
keepers,  society  of  course  taking  its  hue  from  these 
dominant  classes.  There  were  lawyers,  judges,  and 
public  functionaries — men  of  mark — but  their  spirit 
lot  govern  the  town.  There  were  a  few  dain- 
itricians,  who  held  themselves  aloof,  secure  of 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  437 

that  amiable  worship  which  in  all  ages  is  rendered 
to  rank.  But  where  are  they  now?  The  answer 
would  be  a  lesson  and  a  warning  to  those  who  build 
their  claims  to  homage  on  pretense.  Such  was  the 
state  of  things,  at  the  time  I  arrived  in  this  city. 

Some  time  after,  a  new  era  began  to  dawn,  the  light 
of  which  is  still  visible  in  the  very  air  and  aspect  of 
the  place.  Let  me  give  you  a  few  measures  of  this 
striking  progress.  In  1810,  the  population  of  Hart 
ford  was  three  thousand  nine  hundred  and  fifty-five : 
in  1856,  it  is  about  twenty -five  thousand.  The 
American  i  Asylum  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb,  Trinity 
College,  the  Ketreat  for  the  Insane,  the  Wadsworth 
Atheneurn  —  all  excellent  institutions — have  been 
founded  since  my  arrival  in  the  town.  The  churches 
— then  four  in  number — have  increased  to  twenty- 
five,  and  by  their  towering  and  tasteful  spires,  give 
the  place,  as  you  approach  it,  the  aspect  of  a  Holy 
City.  Every  creed  and  shade  of  creed  is  represented, 
from  Puritan  orthodoxy  up  and  down,  to  Roman 
Catholic,  Second  Advent,  and  Synagogue  worshipers. 
There  were  three  weekly  journals,  five  and  forty  years 
ago ;  now  there  are  two  dailies,  eight  weeklies,  and 
two  monthlies.  The  manufacture  of  books,  machines, 
carpets,  pianos,  hardware,  hats,  rifles,  pistols — all  es 
tablished  within  forty  years — now  employ  a  capital  of 
five  millions  of  dollars.  Colt's  pistol-factory,  with  its 
accessories,  is  a  marvelous  example  of  ingenious  art 
and  liberal  enterprise.  The  aggregate  Bank  Capital 


438  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

is  about  six  millions.  The  various  Insurance  Compa 
nies  spread  their  protection  against  fire,  far  and  wide 
— reaching  into  almost  every  State  in  the  Union.  Is 
not  this  progress  ? 

I  could  find  gratifying  themes  in  pursuing  this 
general  train  of  events,  especially  as  the  prosperity 
of  Hartford  marks  the  general  progress  of  society  in 
Connecticut.  But  chronological  propriety  impels  me, 
for  the  present,  in  a  different  direction.  Leaving  the 
humble  path  of  autobiographical  gossip,  I  must  now, 
hackneyed  as  the  subject  may  seem,  take  you  within 
the  wide  and  sweeping  vortex  of  national  history. 
Here,  indeed,  my  own  story  leads,  and  here  you  are 
bound  to  follow.  I  must  tell  you  of  the  war  of  1812, 
for  in  this  I  was  a  soldier,  and  took  my  turn  in  the 
tented  field !  And  besides — though  we  have  plenty 
of  histories  on  the  subject,  we  have,  so  far  as  I  know, 
very  few  pictures  of  the  living  and  moving  panorama 
of  town  and  village  life,  during  those  three  years  of 
national  anxiety  and  humiliation. 

About  midsummer  in  the  year  1812,  the  news 
came  that  Congress,  with  the  sanction  of  the  Pres 
ident,  had  declared  war*  against  Great  Britain. 


*  The  Declaration  of  War  was  ratified  by  the  President  on  the  18th 
of  June,  and  the  proclamation  was  issued  the  next  day.  The  prin 
cipal  grounds,  assigned  by  the  President  for  this  act,  were  the  impress 
ment  of  seamen  by  Great  Britain,  her  paper  blockades,  unsupported 
by  an  adequate  force,  and  various  Orders  in  Council.  Let  it  be  remem- 
ber-ed  that  peace  was  made  by  our  government  in  1814,  without  saying  a 
word  about  impressment— the  main  ground  of  the  war — and  that  the  Or 
ders  in  Council  were  repealed  within  four  days  after  our  declaration  oj 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  439 

Sagacious  men,  no  doubt,  had  foreseen  this,  but  it 
came  upon  the  mass  of  the  people  here,  at  the  North, 
like  a  thunderbolt.  I  remember  perfectly  well  the 
dark  and  boding  cloud  that  gathered  over  the  public 
mind  upon  the  reception  of  the  news,  and  this  was 
deepened  into  anxiety  and  alarm  by  the  tragic  story 
of  the  Baltimore  riot,  which  speedily  followed.  The 
doctrine  had  been  announced,  as  well  in  Congress  as 
elsewhere,  by  the  democratic  leaders,  that  when  war 
was  declared,  opposition  must  cease  —  a  doctrine 
which  is  more  fit  for  the  liveried  slaves  of  despotism 
than  a  free  people — but  which  democracy  has  since 
maintained  to  the  bitter  end.  I  invite  your  particu 
lar  attention  to  this  historical  fact,  for  here  is  the  key 
not  only  to  the  slanders  heaped  up  against  New  Eng 
land  at  the  time,  for  her  opposition  to  the  war,  but 
to  the  pertinacity  with  which  they  have  since  been 
urged.  Even  to  this  day,  the  "Hartford  Conven 
tion,"  "  Connecticut  Blue  Lights,"  &c.,  are  the  grizzly 
monsters  with  which  the  nursing  fathers  and  moth 
ers  of  democracy  frighten  their  children  into  obe 
dience — just  before  the  elections! 

It  is  well  to  remember  another  fact — as  explaining 
not  only  events  which  followed  the  declaration  of 
war,  but  some  others  in  our  history.  Jefferson  de 
mocracy,  from  the  beginning,  made  hatred  of  Eng 
land  its  chief  stock  in  .trade.  This  feeling,  from  a 


tear,  and  be/ore  a  gun  had  been  fired  in  the  conflict !    For  what,  then 
did  we  spend  ouj  hundred  millions  of  dollars  and  thirty  thousand  lives  ? 


440  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

variety  of  causes,  is  indigenous  to  the  masses  of 
our  people.  It  is  greatly  increased,  as  well  in  amount . 
us  in  vehemence,  by  the  large  foreign  element  in  our 
population,  it  being  a  curious  fact  that  emigrants  and 
refugees  of  all  nations,  come  hither  with  an  active 
dislike  of  England.  Democracy  at  the  beginning, 
and  democracy  still,  avails  itself  of  this  sentiment — 
native  as  well  as  foreign.  The  main  cause  of  the 
overthrow  of  the  federalists,  was,  that  they  had  to 
bear  the  burden  of  alleged  friendship  to  England. 

The  war  party  perfectly  well  understood,  and  of 
course  used,  this  hostility  to  England ;  and  the  British 
government,  as  if  to  make  the  conflict  inevitable, 
added  to  the  inherent  fuel  of  popular  prejudice,  the 
flame  of  indignation  arising  from  repeated  insult  and 
injury.  In  this  state  of  things,  the  foreign  popula 
tion,  already  very  numerous,  exercised  a  powerful 
influence,  not  only  in  bringing  on  and  sustaining 
the  war,  but  in  imparting  something  of  their  own 
violence  to  the  discussions  of  the  time.  It  is  no 
torious  that  at  this  period,  a  large  number  of  for 
eigners,  with  feelings  lacerated  by  exile,  and  all 
turned  into  channels  of  hostility  to  Great  Britain,* 
held  influential  positions,  either  as  members  of  Con- 

*  John  Randolph  complained  that  almost  every  leading  press  in  favo' 
of  the  war,  was  conducted  by  men  who  had  but  recently  escaped  from 
the  tyranny  or  the  justice  of  the  British  government.  He  gave  as  in 
stances  the  Aurora  and  the  Democratic  Press,  of  Philadelphia,  one  edit 
ed  by  Duane  and  the  other  by  Binns  ;  the  Whig  at  Baltimore,  edited  by 
Baptiste  Irving ;  and  the  Intelligencer  at  Washington,  by  Gales.  Fos 
ter,  the  British  Minister  at  Washington  when  the  war  was  declared. 


HISTORICAL,  ANRCDOTICAL,  KTC.  441 

gress  or  editors  of  papers,  and  these — co-operating 
with  the  democrats — infused  into  the  war  partisan 
ship,  a  spirit  of  intolerance  and  rancor,  perhaps  with 
out  example  in  our  history.  It  was  not  surprising, 
therefore,  that  riot  and  bloodshed  should  come  at  the 
beginning,  or  that  inveterate  prejudice  should  be  per 
petuated  to  the  end. 

In  the  city  of  Baltimore  there  was  a  paper  called 
the  Federal  Republican,  edited  by  a  highly  respect 
able  and  talented  young  gentleman,  named  Alexan 
der  Hanson.  In  announcing  the  declaration  of  war, 
this  journal  also  announced,  in  terms  moderate  but 
firm,  a  determination  to  continue  to  speak  with  the 
same  freedom  as  before.  This  was  heresy,  which 
democratic  papacy  deemed  worthy  of  fire  and  fagot. 
The  decree  had  gone  forth  that  independence  was 
conspiracy,  and  opposition  was  treason.  The  mob 
at  Baltimore,  largely  composed  of  foreigners,  in  the 
spirit  of  their  leaders,  deemed  the  conduct  of  the 
editor  of  the  Republican  worthy  of  instant  punish 
ment.  Two  days  after  his  offense — that  is,  on  the 
evening  of  the  22d  of  June — an  infuriated  rabble, 
headed  by  a  French  apothecary,  proceeded  to  his 
printing-office,  demolished  the  building,  and  laid  the 

stated  soon  after  in  the  British  House  of  Commons,  that,  among:  the  mem 
bers  of  Congress  who  voted  for  the  war,  there  were  no  less  than  sis  late 
members  of  the  Society  of  United  Irishmen  !  Randolph,  in  allusion  to 
the  spirit  of  menace  and  intolerance  which  was  manifested  in  Congress 
by  the  war  party,  sarcastically  suggested,  more  than  once,  that  he  felt 
himself  in  danger  of  being  tarred  and  feathered,  for  expressing  his  hon 
est  convictions.  Sec  IL'illrtlk'x  Ifittiiry.  second  series,  vol.  iii.  317. 


443  i.  K-iTEks — moo  KAPHICAL, 

whole  establishment  in  ruins.  Hanson,  fortunately, 
was  in  the  country,  and  his  partner,  though  pursued, 
and  hunted  from  house  to  house,  finally  escaped. 
The  magistrates  offered  no  opposition,  and  the  mob, 
thus  encouraged  by  tolerance  and  success,  proceeded 
to  wreak  their  patriotic  vengeance  in  various  direc 
tions,  and  upon  a  variety  of  objects.  A  suggestive 
specimen  of  their  fury  was  manifested  in  burning 
down  the  house  of  a  free  negro,  who  had  spoken  in 
friendly  terms  of  the  British  nation  ! 

The  Federal  Republican  was  temporarily  re-estab 
lished  at  Georgetown,  in  the  District  of  Columbia : 
after  a  time,  however,  it  was  removed  to  Baltimore, — 
Hanson  and  his  friends  deeming  it  their  duty  to  vin 
dicate  the  independence  of  the  press,  thus  violently 
assailed.  They  expected  a  struggle,  and  prepared 
for  it.  They  applied  to  the  authorities  for  protec 
tion,  but  the  mayor  refused  to  interfere,  and  left 
town,  doubtless  for  the  purpose  of  permitting  the  mob 
to  have  its  way.  As  evening  approached,  they  gath 
ered  around  the  printing-office,  and  began  the  attack. 
Hanson  was  attended  by  Gen.  Henry  Lee  and  Gen. 
Lingan,  both  revolutionary  officers,  and  some  twenty 
other  friends.  These  received  the  attack,  the  doors 
and  windows  being  first  strongly  barricaded.  Noth 
ing,  however,  could  resist  the  assailants :  they  burst 
in,  and  were  fired  upon  by  the  defenders,  one  man 
being  killed,  and  several  wounded.  The  authorities 
now  interfered,  and  upon  an  express  stipulation  of 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC  AL,  ETC.  443 

protection,  Hanson  and  his  party  surrendered  arid 
were  conducted  to  prison.  On  their  way,  they  were 
crowded  upon,  insulted,  and  threatened  by  the  rab 
ble.  The  promise  of  the  authorities  was  not  kept : 
the  prison  was  left  unguarded,  the  licensed  mob  broke 
in.  In  the  confusion  which  followed,  six  or  seven  of 
the  prisoners  escaped :  two  were  saved  by  the  human 
ity  and  presence  of  mind  of  a  prisoner  confined  for 
crime,  and  who  diverted  the  pursuit  by  some  ingenious 
fiction.  The  fate  of  the  rest  was  horrible  indeed.  They 
were  thrown  down  the  steps  of  the  jail,  where  they  lay 
in  a  bleeding  and  mangled  heap  for  three  hours,  being 
tortured  by  kicks,  penknives  stuck  into  their  flesh, 
and  hot  candle-grease  dropped  into  their  eyes.  This 
revelry  was  embellished  with  cries  of  "  Jefferson  ! 
Jefferson  !"  "  Madison  !  Madison  !"  and  other  demo 
cratic  watchwords. 

General  Lingan  expired  amid  these  tortures ;  Gen 
eral  Lee  survived,  but  was  made  a  cripple  for  life. 
Hanson  was  sent  out  of  the  city,  concealed  in  a  hay 
cart.  One  poor  fellow  was  tarred  and  feathered,  and 
carted  through  the  city ;  when  he  fell  back  as  if  dead, 
the  feathers  were  set  on  fire  to  revive  him.  Having 
committed  various  other  similar  outrages,  the  mob  at 
last  ceased  its  labors.  The  city  authorities  examined 
the  case,  and  laid  the  blame  at  the  door  of  the  con 
tumacious  editor,  while  a  Baltimore  jury,  without 
hesitation,  acquitted  the  rioters ! 

The  leaders  of  the  war  party,  as  well  in  their  pa- 


444  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

pers  as  in  their  speech,  took  the  side  of  the  rioters, 
and  put  the  responsibility  upon  their  victims.  The 
example  thus  set  and  thus  countenanced,  was  fol 
lowed  in  various  places,  and  especially  at  Norfolk 
and  Buffalo.  A  spirit  of  menace  spread  over  the 
whole  country,  and  even  at  Hartford  there  was  a  fer 
ment  among  the  advocates  of  the  war,  which  threat 
ened  to  break  out  into  open  violence,  against  those 
who  dared  to  condemn  it.  This  rose  to  such  a  point 
that  the  authorities  deemed  it  necessary  to  exercise 
vigilance  and  be  prepared  to  meet  any  such  contin 
gency. 

Such  was  the  first  chapter  in  the  war  of  1812  ;  and 
it  is,  I  repeat,  important  to  be  remembered,  for  it  ex 
hibits  at  once  the  principle  and  the  practice  of  the 
dominant  party  in  relation  to  that  contest.  It  as 
sumed  then,  as  I  have  already  stated,  and  it  has  ever 
maintained  since,  that  opposition  was  treason.  On 
this  principle  it  is  that  democracy  and  its  disciples 
have  since  written  the  history  of  New  England  at 
this  period,  and  upon  this  have  consigned  her  to  un 
mitigated  reproach.  But  partisan  history  is  not  a 
final  judgment:  truth  and  justice  survive,  and  al 
ready  this  high  court  of  appeal  is,  if  I  mistake  not, 
rendering  a  very  different  verdict. 

If  thus  the  first  news  of  the  coming  conflict  caused 
a  general  gloom  in  the  public  mind  at  the  North,  reflec 
tion  only  served  to  deepen  it.  The  remembrances  of 
the  war  of  the  Revolution  had  not  wholly  passed  away. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL.   ETC.  445 

Connecticut  had  especially  suffered  by  the  inroads  of 
the  enemy :  her  towns  and  villages — New  Haven,  Dan- 
bury,  Nor-walk,  Fairfield,  New  London,  and  others — 
having  experienced  all  the  horrors  of  massacre,  con 
flagration,  and  violence.  It  was  natural  that  an  event 
which  suggested  a  renewal  of  the  conflict,  and  with 
the  same  proud  and  powerful  enemy,  should  have 
struck  deep  into  the  hearts  of  the  people.  And  be 
sides,  two-thirds  of  the  inhabitants  throughout  New 
England,  were  politically  opposed  to  the  Administra 
tion  which  now  conducted  the  affairs  of  the  country, 
and  this  opposition  was  rendered  intense  by  a  convic 
tion  that,  for  a  considerable  period,  the  course  of  the 
government  had  been  ruinous,  if  not  hostile,  to  the 
interests  of  this  section  of  the  country.  They  were 
still  federalists,  and  of  the  Washington  type.  They 
were  for  the  good  old  way  in  politics,  religion,  and 
morals.  They  had,  as  I  have  before  stated,  a  special 
dread  of  democracy,  which  had  originated  with  Jef 
ferson,  and  which — catching  something  of  the  spirit 
of  the  French  Revolution,  and  being  violently  prop 
agated  in  the  United  States  by  foreigners,  drunk 
with  the  fanaticism  of  that  day — was  deemed  by  the 
sober  people  of  the  North  as  tainted  with  infidelity 
and  licentiousness,  threatening  alike  to  the  peace  of 
society  and  the  stability  of  our  institutions. 

This  party,  thus  formed,  had  triumphed  in  the 
country  at  large,  and  now  for  twelve  years  had  acl- 
ministered  the  government.  During  that  period,  a 


446  LKTTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

series  of  acts — the  Embargo,  Non-importation,*  &c. — 
had  been  adopted,  which  seemed  like  blows  aimed  at 
New  England,  where  the  interests  of  the  people  were 
specially  involved  in  commerce.  In  every  point  of 
view,  these  were  deemed  as  having  proved  disastrous  : 
not  a  single  national  object,  professed  to  be  aimed  at, 

*  The  series  of  acts  here  alluded  to,  and  called  the  "Restrictive 
Measures,'1''  originated  in  the  various  decrees  of  France  and  England, 
then  engaged  in  deadly  hostilities  with  each  other.  These  decrees  con 
sisted  of  the  British  Orders  in  Council,  16th  May,  1806,  declaring  the 
ports  and  rivers  of  France,  from  Brest  to  the  Elbe,  in  a  state  of  block 
ade,  and  condemning  to  seizure  and  confiscation  such  vessels  as  viola 
ted  this  decree. 

November  21,  following,  Bonaparte  issued  his  famous  Berlin  Decree, 
declaring  the  British  Islands  in  a  state  of  blockade. 

January  6,  1807,  the  British  government  retaliated,  prohibiting  the 
entire  Coasting  trade  with  France.  November  11,  following,  came  the 
British  Orders  in  Council,  prohibiting  all  neutral  nations  from  trading 
With  France  or  her  allies,  except  upon  the  payment  of  tribute. 

December  17,  Bonaparte  retaliated  by  his  Milan  Decree,  confiscating 
every  vessel  found  in  any  of  his  ports  which  had  allowed  herself  to  be 
searched,  or  had  paid  the  tribute  demanded  by  England. 

Thus  American  commerce,  between  these  two  wrestling  giants,  was 
seriously  embarrassed,  though,  as  it  appears,  it  was  not  greatly  dimin 
ished.  The  carrying  trade  was  extensive,  and  our  country  grew  rich 
and  prosperous.  Our  exports  were  a  hundred  millions  of  dollars :  our 
shipping  a  million  and  a  half  of  tons.  (See  Lloyd's  Speech  in  the  Senate  of 
the  United  States,  November  21, 1808.)  In  this  state  of  things,  Mr.  Jef 
ferson  astounded  the  country  by  proposing  an  embargo  upon  all  ship 
ping  within  the  United  States — the  avowed  object  being  to  protect  our 
commerce  from  the  European  belligerents.  No  measure  could  have  been 
more  objectionable  to  the  ship-owners,  in  whose  behalf  it  was  osten 
sibly  proposed.  It  passed  into  a  law  December  22d,  1807.  This  was 
hailed  as  a  "  magnanimous  measure"  by  France ;  at  first  it  was  re 
ceived  with  alarm  by  England,  against  whom  it  was  really  leveled.  Mr. 
Jefferson  believed  that  it  would  withhold  from  England  our  produce, 
and  starve  her  into  submission  ;  at  the  same  time,  he  no  doubt  desired 
to  benefit  France,  by  thus  inflicting  a  heavy  blow  upon  her  adversary. 
That  nnch  was  one  design  of  the  embargo  was  proved  by  supplemen 
tary  acts,  forbidding  intercourse  between  the  United  States  and  the  con 
ligii'nis  British  Provinces.  '•  tlo\v,"  it  was  asked,  "can  a  law  which 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  447 

had  been  attained  by  these  measures.  The  sincerity 
of  the  government  was,  indeed,  deeply  questioned, 
for  there  seemed  to  be  evidences  that  in  professing 
one  thing,  it  really  sought  to  attain  others.  Despite 
the  long  indictment  set  forth  in  the  Declaration  of 
War  against  Great  Britain,  it  was  extensively  be- 


forbids  a  Vermont  farmer  from  going  into  Canada  to  sell  potash,  protect 
our  shipping  from  being  seized  by  the  European  belligerents  ?" 

There  was,  perhaps,  never  an  act  of  greater  despotism  than  that  of 
the  embargo.  It  was  not  limited  in  time  or  space  :  it  seemed  universal 
and  perpetual.  It  consigned  to  ruin  and  bankruptcy  thousands  of  our 
citizens  ;  it  spread  gloom  and  despair  in  our  seaports  ;  it  left  our  ships 
rotting  at  the  wharves ;  it  drove  our  seamen  into  foreign  service.  It  not 
only  inflicted  these  evils  upon  our  own  country,  but  in  some  respects  it 
benefited  Great  Britain,  against  whom  it  was  leveled.  It  stimulated  the 
British  West  Indians  to  vary  their  crops,  and  make  themselves  inde 
pendent  of  our  products;  it  enriched  Canada,  Nova  Scotia,  and  New 
Brunswick  by  turning  into  their  hands  the  supplying  of  bread-stuffs 
and  naval  stores ;  it  built  up  their  navigation  at  the  expense  of  ours ;  it 
gave  to  other  nations  the  rich  carrying  trade  of  the  world. 

Thus  this  measure  proved  to  be,  in  practice,  as  destructive  as  it  was 
erroneous  in  principle.  What  would  the  world  think  of  a  universal 
and  perpetual  embargo  on  our  shipping  now  ?  And  it  was  almost  as 
absurd  in  1807  as  it  would  be  in  1856.  It  was,  in  fact,  sinister  as  to  its 
origin,  absurd  as  a  measure  of  policy,  wrong  in  principle,  and  abor 
tive  in  its  effects.  It  was,  nevertheless,  continued  in  force  until  March, 
1809,  a  period  of  nearly  fifteen  months,  having  spread  poverty  and  ruin 
over  great  part  of  New  England.  As  a  substitute  for  this  measure,  a 
non-importation  act  was  passed,  prohibiting,  for  one  year,  all  commer 
cial  intercourse  with  both  France  and  England. 

On  the  1st  of  May,  1810,  Congress  passed  an  act  excluding  all  British 
and  French  armed  vessels  from  entering  the  waters  of  the  United  States ; 
but  providing,  also,  that  if  either  of  these  nations  should  modify  its 
decrees  before  the  3d  of  March,  1811,  intercourse  with  it  should  bo 
renewed.  This  condition  was  apparently  complied  with  by  France 
(though  it  afterward  appeared  to  be  otherwise),  and  in  November  it 
was  announced  by  the  President's  proclamation.  The  difficulties  with 
Great  Britain,  as  to  her  blockade  and  Orders  in  Council,  however, 
continued,  and  constituted  one  of  the  principal  grounds  of  the  war,  ;u 
set  fort  1 1  in  the  Declaration.  A  few  days  after  this  declaration,  however. 
•  ifws  arrived  that  these  acts  hud  buen  repealed,  on  the  22d  of  Juno, 


'148  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL. 

lieved  that  this  measure  had  its  true  origin  in  an  in 
trigue  for  the  presidency.*  The  people  did  not  be 
lieve  the  war  necessary :  they  did  not  feel  that  it  was 
declared  for  patriotic  purposes.  Above  all,  they  held 
that  the  country  was  in  no  state  of  preparation  for 
such  a  struggle ;  and  they  doubted  the  fitness  and 
capacity  of  the  administration  to  carry  it  on  with 
vigor  and  success. 

These  were  the  views  of  the  mass  of  the  people  in 
New  England.  Nor  were  they  alone.  Many  of  the 
leaders  of  the  democratic  party  were  adverse  to  this 
measure ;  Mr.  Madison,  the  President,  believed  it  to 
be  rash,  and  was  only  persuaded  into  it  by  the  impe 
rious  exigency  of  following  the  war-cry  of  young 
and  vaulting  democracy,  in  order  to  secure  his  sec 
ond  election.  Gallatin  yielded  to  it,  from  a  feeling 
of  party  necessity.  Randolph  openly  and  strenu 
ously  opposed  it  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 
Stephen  Howe  Bradley,  sixteen  years  a  senator  from 
Vermont,  and  the  ablest  democratic  member  of 
the  Senate  from  New  England,  earnestly  counseled 

find  hence  it  was  urged  that  the  war  should  cease,  as  one  of  its  princi 
pal  causes  was  withdrawn.    Such,  however,  was  not  the  view  of  our 
government. 

*  "  That  domination  over  public  opinion  which  the  war  party  so  long 
manifested,  &c.,  have  conspired  to  shield  Madison  from  the  obloquy 
which  must  ever  rest  upon  this  part  of  his  conduct — that  of  having  been 
driven  by  intimidation,  and  seduced  by  personal  interest  and  ambition, 
into  a  course  of  public  conduct,  in  his  own  judgment  improvident,  if 
ubt  highly  dangerous." 

"  The  same  convictions  were  fully  shared  by  Gallatin,  and  probably 
also  by  Monroe,  the  President's  two  principal  cabinet  officers." — HU- 
dretk'e  United  States,  second  series,  vol.  iii.  p.  334. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTIC  A  L,  ETC.  449 

Madison  against  it.*  Fifteen  democratic  members 
of  Congress  voted  against  the  Declaration  of  War. 
There  was,  in  fact,  a  large  body  of  reflecting  demo 
crats  in  the  country  who  did  not  approve  of  the  war, 
though  the  vehemence  of  those  who  supported  it 
kept  them  in  silence,  or  perhaps  forced  them  to  ac 
quiescence.  While  such  was  the  fact  as  to  many 
leading  democrats,  the  federalists,  with  one  voice, 
united  in  its  condemnation. 

If  such  were  the  objections  of  New  England  to 
the  war,  there  were  others  of  equal  force  to  the  pro 
posed  method  of  carrying  it  on.  The  plan  of  the 
government  was  to  invade  Canada,  conquer  it,  and 
hold  it  as  a  pledge  of  peace.  In  New  England,  there 
were  objections  of  principle,  founded  as  well  in  the 
Constitution,  as  in  policy  and  morals,  against  aggres 
sive  war,  especially  for  avowed  purposes  of  conquest. 
And  besides,  they  held  that  the  ocean,  and  not  the 
land,  was  the  true  theater  upon  which  we  were  best 
qualified  to  cope  with  the  enemy. 

These,  I  repeat,  were  the  views  of  New  England, 
by  which  I  mean  the  people  of  New  England — not 
of  a  few  politicians  and  party  leaders,  but  of  the  great 
body  of  the  citizens — that  is,  the  entire  federal  party, 
constituting  a  large  majority  of  the  voters.  It  is  a 
well-known  characteristic  of  this  part  of  our  country, 
that  all  classes  read,  reflect,  and  form  opinions.  These 

*  General  Bradley  "was  so  dissatisfied  with  the  war,  that  soon  after,  he 
withdrew  altogether  from  public  life. 


450  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

give  direction  to  politicians,  not  politicians  to  them. 
It  is  important  to  keep  this  in  view ;  it  is  indispensable 
to  the  formation  of  a  just  judgment  upon  questions 
which  immediately  ensued,  and  which  are  matters  of 
dispute  to  the  present  day.  It  will  be  seen  that  even 
the  Hartford  Convention  originated  -with  the  people, 
and  was  a  measure  of  necessity,  dictated  by  the  state 
of  public  feeling  and  opinion,  arising  from'the  condi 
tion  of  the  country  at  large,  and  New  England  in 
particular. 

I  thus  present  this  picture  of  the  actual  state  of 
things  at  the  commencement  of  the  war,  not  to 
arraign  either  party  as  wholly  wrong,  or  to  vindi 
cate  either  as  wholly  right.  It  was  an  era  of  high 
party  excitement,  and  in  the  shock,  all  were  doubt 
less  forced  into  false  positions.  Yet,  making  due 
allowance  for  these  natural  and  pardonable  obliqui 
ties,  on  one  side  and  the  other,  and  instructed  by 
subsequent  events  as  recorded  by  history,  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  these  opinions  of  the  New  Eng 
land  people  had  a  serious  and  just  foundation.  Op 
position  to  the  war  was,  therefore,  not  only  their 
right,  but,  with  these  convictions,  it  was  their  duty. 
To  have  submitted  to  the  doctrine  that  opposition  is 
treason,  would  have  made  them  unworthy  of  the  name 
and  privileges  of  freemen.  That  their  opposition  was, 
on  the  whole,  as  moderate  in  spirit  and  wise  in  form, 
as  it  was  just  in  principle,  is  also  my  firm  convic 
tion. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  451 


LETTER    XXVIII 

Specks  of  War  in  (he  Atmosphere — The  FirstYear — Operations  on  the  Land 
and  on  the  Sea — The  Wickedness  of  the  Federalists — The  Second  Tear — 
The  Connecticut  Militia — Decatur  driven  into  the  Thames — Connecticut 
in  trouble — I  become  a  Soldier — My  First  and  Last  Campaign,. 

MY  DEAR  0****** 

I  am  not  about  to  write  the  "  History  of  the  War 
of  1812" — though  that  has  not  yet  been  done.  We 
have  abundance  of  books  under  that  title,  but  a  so 
ber  and  just  account,  rising  above  the  party  fire  and 
smoke  of  that  day,  and  above  the  sinister  influences 
of  this,  is  yet  to  be  written.*  It  is,  however,  a  task 
I  shall  not  undertake — either  in  these  pages  or  else 
where.  I  am  writing  my  own  recollections,  and  it  is 
only  as  these  afford  glimpses  of  the  period  alluded 
to,  that  I  shall  notice  it. 

I  pass  over  a  variety  of  things,  still  in  my  mem 
ory  :  the  gradual  deepening  of  the  gloom  that  spread 
over  society  as  the  events  of  the  war  drew  on  ;  the 
bankruptcies  of  merchants  ;  the  suspension  of  specie 
payments  by  the  banks ;  the  difficulty  of  getting 
money  ;  the  gradual  withering  of  the  resources  of  the 
people  ;  the  scarcity  of  a  multitude  of  articles,  alike 

*  Hildreth's  History  of  the  United  States  is  a  strong  book — vigorous 
in  its  style  and  manly  in  its  spirit.  Its  sketch  of  the  war  of  1812  is  a 
mere  outline,  but  so  far  as  it  goes  it  seems  to  me  calculated  to  satisfy 
the  reader  who  wishes  to  obtain  an  impartial  and  true  view  of  events, 
and  of  the  men  that  participated  in  them 


452  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL. 

of  luxury,  convenience,  and  necessity  ;  the  stagnation 
of  trade  ;  the  impoverishment  and  depression  of  the 
laboring  classes;  the  crushing  of  the  hopes  and 
prospects  of  the  young,  about  entering  upon  the  the 
ater  of  active  and  independent  life  :  in  short,  that  gen 
eral  sense  of  anxiety,  poverty,  and  disappointment — 
which  clouded  nearly  every  brow  and  .nearly  every 
heart.  I  pass  over  those  hells  of  drinking,  deception, 
and  degradation,  called  recruiting  rendezvous.  I  pass 
over  the  scream  of  fife  and  tuck  of  drum  —  daily 
exhibited  in  the  streets  by  a  miserable  set  of  young 
men,  for  the  most  part  seduced  into  the  army,  either 
by  artifice  or  liquor.  I  pass  over  the  patriotic  pul 
sations  of  the  democracy,  and  the  lowering  disgust 
of  federalism,  as  the  glorious  army  of  patriots — some 
times  ten  or  a  dozen  men — led  by  a  puffy  sergeant, 
choking  with  martial  ardor  or  a  close-fitting  stock, 
passed  through  our  city  on  their  way  to  the  Conquest 

of  Canada.     I  pass  by  Col.  C — a  sample  of  a 

large  part  of  the  new  army  officers  of  that  period — a 
raw  river  boatman,  suddenly  converted  into  a  colonel, 
and  strutting,  with  his  martial  cloak  around  him,  like 
a  new-fledged  Shanghai  cock.  I  pass  by  the  arrival 
in  our  town  of  Dearborn — "  Major-general  Dearborn 
—  Commander-in-chief  of  the  American  army" — a 
great  man,  and  causing  a  great  sensation,  then — but 
"  Granny  Dearborn"  a  very  short  time  after. 

Leaving  these  and  similar  incidents  entirely  out  of 
view,  and  taking  a  long  leap  to  the  close  of  the  year 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  453 

— what  saitb  the  record  ?  General  Hull  had  surren 
dered  in  August — less  than  sixty  days  after  the  dec 
laration  of  war — to  the  British  at  Detroit,  giving  up 
his  whole  army  of  two  thousand  men,  with  all  our 
forts,  garrisons,  and  territories  in  that  quarter.  This, 
the  direct  result  of  mismanagement  on  the  part  of  the 
Administration,  as  well  in  planning  the  campaign  as 
in  giving  an  important  command  to  an  imbecile  of 
ficer — was  the  substance  of  the  first  year's  operations 
against  Canada.  We  just  caught  a  Tartar — that  is, 
the  Tartar  took  us  and  our  territory,  instead  of  our 
taking  him !  General  Dearborn  had  indeed  three 
armies  afoot  —  some  ten  thousand  men,  stretching 
along  the  Canada  line,  from  Plattsburg  to  Michigan  ; 
and  there  was  some  fighting,  but  nothing  effectual 
was  done.  Never  was  a  country  in  a  situation  more 
humiliating  than  ours — a  great  nation,  having  boast 
ed  of  overrunning  Canada  in  two  months — seeing  its 
own  armies  beaten,  baffled,  and  retiring  ingloriously 
into  winter  quarters,  before  an  enemy  which  we  had 
covered  with  epithets  of  ridicule  and  contempt ! 

The  federalists  were  very  wicked  people,  and  put 
ting  finger  to  nose,  as  they  met  the  democrats,  they 
said—"  We  told  you  so  !"  Now,  "  I  told  you  so  !" 
is  not  only  a  very  provoking,  but,  in  general,  a  very 
mean  argument.  The  federalists  were  very  wrong 
indeed — positively  unchristian.  Charity  tells  us  to 
comfort  the  unfortunate,  and  to  pour  balm  into  the 
wounded  heart.  The  federalists  did  no  such  thing. 


LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Oh,  how  the  Connecticut  Mirror,  in  the  hands  of 
Theodore  Dwight,  did  cast  its  arrows,  right  and  left, 
at  the  war  audits  authors!  Poor  "Jim  Madison:" 
poor  "  Granny  Dearborn  !"  It  was  indeed  very,  very 
provoking,  very  improper. 

While  thus  failure  and  disgrace  attended  our  op 
erations  upon  the  land,  light  broke  in  upon  us  from 
the  ocean.  On  the  19th  of  August,  three  days  after 
Hull's  surrender,  another  Hull — the  gallant  Commo 
dore — met  the  Guerriere,  and  it  was  ours.  Again 
the  wicked  federalists  said — "  We  told  you  so !  that's 
our  thunder."  This  was  true  enough.  The  federal 
ists  had  built  up  the  navy  :  Jefferson  and  his  party 
had  opposed  it.  The  federalists  had  urged  that — if 
we  must  go  to  war — the  strength  of  the  country 
should  be  put  into  ships,  and  that  we  should  meet 
the  enemy  upon  the  sea.  "  Not  so" — said  democra 
cy — "  we  will  take  Canada !"  It  was  very  provoking 
of  Commodore  Hull  to  capture  the  Guerriere,  for 
it  gave  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy — these  black 
hearted  federalists !  However,  other  commanders  fol 
lowed  Hull's  example.  On  the  18th  of  October, 
Capt.  Jones,  in  the  Wasp,  took  the  British  sloop-of- 
war  Frolic ;  and  on  the  25th  of  the  same  month,  the 
fierce  and  fiery  Decatur,  in  the  frigate  United  States, 
captured  the  British  frigate  Macedonian.  In  Decem 
ber,  Bainbridge  conquered  the  Java,  after  a  fearful 
conflict.  "  Hurra  for  the  navy  i  we  told  you  so  !" 
said  the  black-hearted  federalists. 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTJCAL,  ETC.  455 

Such  was  the  first  year  of  the  war :  the  campaign 
of  1813  opened  upon  a  wider  and  more  varied  field. 
Among  its  incidents  upon  the  land,  were  the  disas 
trous  operations  of  Winchester,  at  Frenchtown — 
which  clothed  all  Kentucky  in  mourning  for  its  gal 
lant  sons,  fallen  in  battle ;  our  capture  of  York,  in 
Canada,  costing  the  life  of  the  lamented  Pike  ;  Har 
rison's  effective  resistance  at  the  siege  of  Fort  Meigs  ; 
the  battle  of  the  Thames,  and  the  death  of  the  great 
Indian  chief,  Tecumseh — important  events,  leading 
finally  to  the  recovery  of  Detroit.  To  these  were  add 
ed  the  retirement  of  General  Dearborn — the  President 
insisting  he  was  sick,  while  the  general,  not  taking 
or  not  relishing  the  joke,  insisted  that  he  was  never 
better  in  his  life ;  the  succession  of  Wilkinson  as 
commander-in-chief — soon,  however,  to  be  superseded 
and  tried  by  court-martial  for  his  blunders  and  fail 
ures  ;  the  magnificent  attempt  to  take  Montreal,  and 
its  equally  magnificent  abortion  ;  and  finally,  late  in 
the  year,  the  bloody  and  desolating  ravages  by  the 
British,  of  Buffalo,  Black  Bock,  Lewiston,  &c.,  &c., 
in  revenge  for  our  burning  the  Canadian  village  of 
Newark,  by  which  we  turned  four  hundred  helpless 
people  out  of  doors  in  midwinter.  Thus  the  year, 
which  had  presented  some  brilliant  instances  of  cour 
age  and  conduct,  closed  in  general  disappointment 
and  humiliation,  so  far  as  our  land  operations  were 
concerned.  "  We  told  you  so !"  said  the  wicked  fed 
eralists,  and  many  a  democratic  ear  tingled  at  the  gibe. 


456  LKTTKKS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Yet  light  again — with  some  sad  and  disheartening 
hadows — came  from  the  sea.  On  the  21st  of  Feb 
ruary,  Captain  Lawrence  took  the  Peacock,  but  on 
the  4th  of  June  following,  gave  up  his  life  on  the  deck 
of  the  Chesapeake — captured  by  the  Shannon — be 
queathing,  however,  to  his  country  the  glorious 
motto,  worthy  of  all  great  occasions — "  Don't  give 
up  the  ship  !"  On  the  14th  of  August  the  American 
Argus  quailed  to  the  British  Pelican  ;  in  September, 
the  British  Boxer  became  the  prize  of  the  American 
Enterprise.  A  greater  triumph  was  at  hand.  On  the 
10th  of  this  month.  Perry  met  the  enemy  on  Lake 
Erie,  and  "  they  were  ours  !"  It  was  indeed  a  glorious 
victory ;  the  entire  British  fleet — two  ships,  two  brigs, 
one  schooner,  and  one  sloop — falling  into  our  hands. 

"We  told  you  so:  that's  our  thunder!"  said  the 
exultant  but  provoking  federalists.  "  It  is  our  thun 
der,  too  !"  said  the  democrats.  "  Hurra  for  the  navy  I" 
said  both  parties.  "  Here's  to  Hull  and  Decatur  and 
Jones  and  Biddle  and  Bainbridge,  and  all  the  rest !" 
said  everybody.  There  was  one  point  of  union  at  last, 
and  so  it  was  to  the  end  of  the  war.  The  little  navy 
had  conquered  democratic  prejudice,  and  fought  itself 
into  national  favor.  It  was  indeed  a  glorious  thing — 
saving  the  honor  of  the  country,  tarnished  by  imbecil 
ity  and  disaster  upon  the  land,  and  teaching  a  wise 
lesson  as  to  the  true  policy  to  be  pursued,  in  case  of 
future  conflict  with  any  European  enemy  :  let  us  meet 
upon  the  sea! 


HISTORICAL,  AMECDOT'ICAL.  ETC.  4.,, 

I  must  not  omit  an  episode  of  the  war  at  this  pe 
riod,  in  which  I  was  concerned.  On  the  first  of  June, 
1813,  Commodore  Decatur,  in  the  United  States,  at 
tended  by  the  Macedonian  and  the  sloop-of-war  Hor 
net,  having  passed  from  New  York  through  the 
Sound,  attempted  to  get  out  to  sea  by  way  of  Mon- 
tauk  Point.  Here  they  were  met  by  the  British  fleet, 
under  Commodore  Hardy,  and  driven  into  the  Thames 
at  New  London.  The  enemy's  force  was  soon  in 
creased  by  the  arrival  of  other  ships  of  war,  and 
these,  anchoring  off  Gull  Island  so  as  to  block  up  the 
port,  seemed  to  threaten  a  speedy  attack.  Great  panic 
immediately  ensued,  as  well  at  New  London  as  along 
the  borders  of  the  Sound.  The  specie  of  the  banks 
in  that  city  was  removed  to  Norwich,  and  the  wo 
men  and  children  dispersed  themselves  among  the 
interior  towns  and  villages.  No  adequate  means  of 
defense  existed  along  the  line  of  the  New  England 
coast — seven  hundred  miles  in  extent.  The  regu 
lar  troops  had  nearly  all  been  marched  off  to  invade 
Canada.  The  general  government  had,  furthermore, 
called  upon  the  New  England  States  to  place  a  por 
tion  of  the  militia  at  their  disposal  for  this  object. 
This  had  been  refused  on  several  grounds  :  one  was, 
that  the  Constitution  provided  only  three  contingen 
cies,  in  which  the  militia  could  be  lawfully  placed 
under  the  command  of  the  President,  and  these  were, 
to  repel  invasion,  suppress  insurrection,  and  execute  the 
laws.  Neither  of  these  emergencies  existed  in  the 

VOL.  I.— 20 


4-58  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

present  case.  Another  ground  of  refusal  was,  that  the 
coasts,  being  left  defenceless,  the  retaining  of  the  mili 
tia  was  a  measure  dictated  by  every  consideration  of 
prudence.  Still  another  objection  was,  that  the  general 
government  had  so  organized  and  distributed  the  na 
tional  forces,  as  to  make  the  militia  fall  under  the 
command  of  the  army  officers — a  principle  always 
resisted  by  the  country,  in  every  period  of  its  national 
history.  On  the  whole,  the  government  scheme,  in 
respect  to  the  militia,  was  regarded,  and  very  justly, 
as  analogous  to  the  systems  of  conscription  in  the 
military  despotisms  of  Europe,  and — if  once  tolerated 
and  passed  into  practice — as  alike  hostile  to  our  prin 
ciples  and  threatening  to  our  liberties.  The  fear  of 
seeing  our  freedom  fall  before  some  ambitious  mili 
tary  leader,  had  prevailed  in  the  convention  which 
framed  our  Constitution,  and  it  was  this  which  had 
induced  that  far-seeing  body  to  circumscribe  the 
power  of  the  President,  in  regard  to  the  militia,  with 
in  the  clear  and  narrow  limits  already  mentioned.' 
Prudence  and  patriotism  alike  dictated,  in  the  present 
instance,  that  this  great  bulwark  of  liberty  should  be 
maintained. 

These,  fortunately  for  the  country,  were  the  views 
of  the  New  England  States  at  this  period,  and  upon 
these  they  acted.  There  was  then  and  has  been  since, 
much  clamor  by  the  war  party  against  their  conduct 
in  this  instance,  but  every  lover  of  his  country  should 
render  homage  to  the  wisdom  and  patriotism  of  those 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  459 

leaders  who  guided  the  councils  of  New  England,  at 
this  crisis.  The  question  was  then  settled,  and  doubt 
less  settled  forever,  that  by  no  artifice  can  the  system 
of  conscription,  giving  unlimited  command  over  the 
militia  to  the  President,  be  consummated.  The  rule 
of  the  Constitution,  in  this  respect,  has  been  con 
firmed,  as  not  only  a  principle  in  theory,  but  as  a  rule 
of  practice. 

I  remember  the  discussions  on  this  subject  which 
took  place  at  the  North,  during  this  period.  Besides 
the  objections  already  mentioned  against  placing  the 
militia  at  the  disposal  of  the  President — and  besides 
the  general  hostility  of  the  people  to  sending  their 
sons  forth  for  the  avowed  purpose  of  conquest  — 
there  was  another  motive,  and  a  very  active  one, 
tending  in  the  same  direction.  The  new  army  officers, 
with  some  honorable  exceptions,  were  held  in  very 
light  esteem,  as  well  personally  as  professionally.  Al 
most  without  exception,  the  appointments  were  bestowed 
upon  partisans  of  the  President.  Many  of  the  officers 
were  notoriously  unfit  for  the  places  given  to  them.* 

*  This  was  certainly  the  case  ill  New  England,  and  I  know  of  no  cir 
cumstance  in  the  whole  conduct  of  the  war,  that  operated  so  powerfully 
as  this,  to  destroy  the  confidence  of  the  people  in  the  government,  and 
to  exasperate  them  against  it.  Many  of  the  officers,  especially  those  of 
the  lower  grade,  had  no  qualifications  for  the  places  they  filled  but  their 
democracy.  This  was  pointed  out  to  the  President :  he  was  advised 
that  if  he  would  commission  certain  persons  of  the  federal  party,  who 
were  conspicuous  for  their  military  qualifications,  and  who  were  also 
willing  to  receive  commissions,  that  it  would  do  more  than  any  thing 
else  to  break  the  opposition  to  the  war.  This  he  declined,  saying  that 
the  offices  belonged  of  right  to  those  who  supported  his  administration, 
and  besides,  that  he  should  disgust  his  own  party  by  such  a  course. 


460  L  OTTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Dearborn  especially  was  well  known  in  New  Eng 
land,  and  was  regarded  as  wholly  incompetent  to  the 
responsible  command  devolved  upon  him.  Hull's 
surrender,  Dearborn's  failures,  and  Wilkinson's  abor 
tions,  justified  and  increased  this  general  want  of  con 
fidence  in  the  new  army  appointments.  Even  if  other 
objections  had  not  existed,  the  people  would  have 
revolted  at  the  idea  of  sending  their  sons  to  perish 
ingloriously  along  the  Canadian  borders,  under  the 
direction  of  incompetent  commanders,  appointed  on 
merely  partisan  principles. 

But  now  a  new  state  of  things  had  arisen  in  Connec 
ticut  :  our  own  territory  was  threatened.  For  this, 
the  State  government  had  made  wise  preparation, 
and  on  their  part  there  was  no  hesitation.*  It  was 
midsummer — a  period  when  the  husbandmen  could 

*  Party  vehemence  has  represented  that  the  New  England  States,  at 
this  period,  not  only  opposed  the  war  by  words  but  by  deeds  ;  that  in 
fact  they  were  prepared  to  go  over  to  the  enemy.  Nothing  could  be 
more  untrue.  Whatever  might  be  the  political  opinions  of  the  feder 
alists,  when  the  war  was  declared,  Great  Britain  was  regarded  as  an  en 
emy.  I  can  affirm,  that,  although  I  was  in  the  very  midst  of  the  "  old 
federalists"  of  Connecticut,  I  never  heard  a  word  fall  from  the  lips  of 
any  one  of  them,  expressive  of  an  opposite  sentiment.  I  no  doubt 
caught  the  feelings  of  those  around  me,  and  I  am  conscious  of  having 
always  felt,  through  the  war,  that  the  British  were  our  national  ene 
mies.  The  records  of  Connecticut  prove,  conclusively,  that  this  idea 
was  as  strongly  entertained  by  the  government  of  that  State  as  by  the 
general  government  itself.  The  following  are  extracts  from  the  doings 
of  the  legislature,  in  their  extra  session,  called  in  August,  1818,  in  con 
sequence  of  the  declaration  of  war ;  and  the  conduct  of  the  State  was  ia 
accordance  with  these  views. 

"  War,  always  calamitous,  in  this  case  portentous  of  great  evils,  enact 
ed  against  a  nation  powerful  in  her  armies,  and  without  a  rival  on  the  - 
ocean,  can  not  be  viewed  by  us  but  with  the  deepest  regret.     A  nation 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  41  ( 

ill  afford  to  leave  their  farms  :  so  orders  were  sent  by 
Governor  Smith*  to  dispatch  at  once  the  companiea 
of  militia  from  the  larger  towns  to  the  defense  of  New 
London,  and  the  neighboring  country.  At  that  tirm 
I  belonged  to  an  artillery  company,  and  this  was  among' 
those  ordered  to  the  coast.  I  received  a  summons  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  to  be  ready  to  march 
the  next  day  at  sunrise.  I  went  at  once  to  consult 

without  fleets,  without  armies,  with  an  impoverished  treasury,  with  a 
frontier  by  sea  and  land  extending  many  hundred  miles,  feebly  defend 
ed — waging  a  war,  hath,  not  first '  counted  the  cost.' 

"  By  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the  power  of  declaring 
war  is  vested  in  Congress.  They  have  declared  war  against  Great  Brit 
ain.  However  much  this  measure  is  regretted,  the  General  Assembly, 
ever  regardful  of  their  duty  to  the  general  government,  will  perform  all 
those  obligations  resulting  from  this  act.  With  this  view,  they  have 
at  this  session  provided  for  the  more  effectual  organization  of  the  mil 
itary  force  of  the  State,  and  a  supply  of  the  munitions  of  war.  These 
will  be  employed,  should  the  public  exigencies  require  it,  in  defense  of 
this  State,  and  of  our  sister  States,  in  compliance  with  the  Constitution  ; 
and  it  is  not  to  be  doubted,  but  that  the  citizens  of  this  State  will  be 
found,  at  the  constitutional  call  of  their  country,  among  the  foremost  in 
its  defense." 

*  Eoger  Griswold  was  Governor  at  the  time  the  war  was  declared, 
but  in  October,  1812,  during  the  session  of  the  legislature,  he  died  at  his 
residence  in  Norwich.  John  Cotton  Smith,  then  Lieutenant-governor, 
became  acting  governor,  and  the  next  April  was  elected  Governor  of  the 
State.  Eoger  Griswold  was  born  at  Lyme  in  1762  :  having  graduated 
at  Yale  College,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  law,  and  soon  ro  e  to  emi 
nence.  In  1794  he  was  elected  to  Congress,  where  he  continued  for 
many  years,  being  a  leader  of  the  federal  party.  Mr.  Webster  once  told 
me  that  he  considered  him  one  of  the  most  accomplished  parliamentary 
debaters  our  country  has  produced.  During  his  time  there  wa»  an  Irish 
man  in.  Congress  from  Vermont,  named  Matthew  Lyon,  of  whom  tho 
poet  Honeywood  thus  sings : 

"  I'm  rugged  Mat, 
The  Democrat — 

Berate  me  as  you  please,  sir : 
True  Paddy-whack, 
Ne'er  turn'd  his  back, 

Nor  bow'd  his  head  to  Caesar." 


402  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

my  uncle — who,  by  the  way,  was  at  that  time  not 
only  mayor  of  the  city,  but  Lieutenant-governor  of 
the  State.  He  had  a  short  time  before  promised  to 
make  me  one  of  his  aids,  and  perhaps  thought  I 
should  expect  him  now  to  fulfill  his  engagement. 
He  soon  set  that  matter  at  rest. 

"  You  must  of  course  go,"  said  he.  "  We  old  fed 
eralists  can  not  shelter  our  nephews,  when  there  is  a 
question  of  defending  our  own  territory." 

"  Ought  I  not  to  consult  my  parents  ?"  said  I. 

I  will  go  down  and  see  them  to-morrow  "  he  re 
plied. 

"  Certainly  then  I  shall  go  :  I  wish  to  go  :  my  only 
feeling  is  that  my  mother  may  have  some  anxiety." 

"  I  will  see  her  to-morrow :  you  may  be  at  ease 
on  that  subject.  Be  ready  to  march  at  sunrise,  ac 
cording  to  your  orders.  I  will  come  and  see  you 
before  you  start." 

The  next  morning,  while  it  was  yet  dark,  he  came, 
gave  me  letters  of  introduction  to  Judge  Brainard, 
father  of  the  poet,  Judge  Perkins,  and  General  Wil 
liams.  He  also  supplied  me  with  ten  dollars,  a  wel 
come  addition  to  my  light  purse.  After  a  little  ad 
vice,  he  said — "  I  have  only  one  thing  to  add — if 
you  come  to  a  fight,  don't  run  away  till  the  rest  do. 
Good-by!" 

This  man,  one  day,  spit  in  Griswold's  i'ace  in  the  Representatives'  Hall, 
and  as  the  democratic  miijority  refused  to  punish  him,  Griswold  jrave 
him  a  severe  beating  with  his  cane.  Thia  was  the  first  of  those  indecent 
brawls  which  have  disgraced  onr  national  assembly. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  463 

The  next  morning — June  7,  1813 — about  sunrise, 
the  whole  company,  nearly  sixty  in  number,  mount 
ed  in  wagons,  departed.  At  sunset,  we  were  on  the 
heights,  two  miles  back  of  New  London.  No  provi 
sion  had  been  made  for  us,  and  so  we  went  supper- 
less  to  bed,  in  a  large  empty  barn.  I  scarcely  closed 
my  eyes,  partly  because  it  was  my  first  experiment 
in  sleeping  on  the  floor,  and  partly  because  of  the 
terrific  snoring  of  a  fellow-soldier,  by  the  name  of 
C  . . . .,  who  chanced  to  be  at  my  side.  Never  have  I 
heard  such  a  succession  of  choking,  suffocating,  stran 
gling  sounds  as  issued  from  his  throat.  I  expected 
that  he  would  die,  and  indeed  once  or  twice  I  thought 
he  was  dead.  Strange  to  say,  he  got  up  the  next 
morning  in  excellent  condition,  and  seemed,  indeed,  to 
feel  better  for  the  exercise.  This  man  became  quite  a 
character  before  the  campaign  was  over :  he  got  the 
title  of  ^Eolus,  and  as  he  could  not  be  tolerated  in 
the  barracks,  he  was  provided  with  a  tent,  at  a  good 
distance,  where  he  blew  his  blast  without  restraint. 
I  need  only  add,  that,  at  the  close  of  the  campaign, 
lie  was  the  fattest  man  in  the  company. 

I  was  glad  to  see  the  daylight.  The  weather  was 
fine,  and  as  the  sun  came  up,  we  saw  the  British  fleet 
— some  half  dozen  large  ships  of  war — lying  off  the 
mouth  of  the  Thames.  They  seemed  very  near  at 
hand,  and  for  the  first  time  I  realized  my  situation — 
that  of  a  soldier,  who  was  likely  soon  to  be  engaged 
in  battle.  I  said  nothing  of  my  emotions  :  indeed, 


4-61  LKTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

v/ords  were  unnecessary.  I  watched  the  counte 
nances  of  my  companions  as  they  first  caught  a  view 
of  the  black  and  portentous  squadron,  and  I  read  in. 
almost  every  bosom  a  reflection  of  my  own  feelings. 
We  were,  however,  not  all  sentimentalists.  There 
were  among  us,  as -doubtless  in  all  such  companies,  a 
supply  of  witty,  reckless  Gallios,  who  gave  a  cheerful 
turn  to  our  thoughts.  We  soon  dispersed  among  the 
inhabitants,  scattered  over  the  neighboring  hills  and 
valleys,  for  breakfast.  Like  hungry  wolves,  we  fell 
upon  the  lean  larders,  and  left  famine  behind.  CM 
course  every  one  offered  to  pay,  but  not  one  person 
would  accept  a  farthing :  we  were,  indeed,  received 
as  protectors  and  deliverers.  It  was  something,  after 
all,  to  be  soldiers !  With  our  stomachs  fortified,  and 
our  consciousness  flattered,  we  came  cheerfully  to 
gether. 

At  ten  o'clock,  we  were  mustered,  and  began  our 
march,  all  in  our  best  trim  :  cocked  hats,  long-tailed 
blue  coats,  with  red  facings,  white  pantaloons,  and 
shining  cutlasses  at  our  sides.  Oar  glittering  cannon 
moved  along  with  the  solemnity  of  elephants.  It  was, 
in  fact,  a  fine  company — all  young  men,  and  many 
from  the  best  families  in  Hartford.  Our  captain,  John 
son,  was  an  eminent  lawyer,  of  martial  appearance, 
and"  great  taste  for  military  affairs.  He  afterward 
rose  to  the  rank  of  general.  Mosely,  the  first-lieu 
tenant,  was  six  feet  four  inches  high — a  young  law 
yer,  nephew  of  Oliver  Wolcott — and  of  high  social 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  465 

nnd  professional  standing.  Screamed  the  fife,  rolled 
the  drum — as  we  entered  New  London  !  The  streets 
presented  some  confusion,  for  still  the  people  were 
removing  back  into  the  country,  as  an  attack  was 
daily  expected.  A  few  military  companies  were  also 
gathering  into  the  town.  We  were,  however,  not 
wholly  overlooked  :  women  put  their  heads  out  of 
the  windows,  and  smiled  their  gratitude  as  we  passed 
along.  Men  stopped,  and  surveyed  us  with  evident 
signs  of  approbation.  Louder  screamed  our  fife, 
deeper  rolled  our  drum,  and  the  glorious  music 
echoed  and  re-echoed — bounded  and  rebounded — 
from  the  reverberating  walls  of  the  streets.  It  was 
a  glorious  thing  to  belong  to  such  a  company  !  At 
last  we  came  to  a  halt  in  one  of  the  public  squares. 
Then  there  was  racing  and  chasing  of  aid-de-camps, 
in  buff  and  feathers,  for  four  mortal  hours,  during 
which  our  martial  pride  wilted  a  little  in  the  broil 
ing  sun.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  we  were 
transported  across  the  Thames,  to  the  village  of  Gro- 
ton,  and  took  up  our  quarters  in  a  large  house,  on 
the  bank  of  the  river,  vacated  for  our  use.  Two 
immense  kettles — the  one  filled  with  junks  of  salt 
beef  and  the  other  with  unwashed  potatoes — were 
swung  upon  the  kitchen  trammels,  and  at  six  o'clock 
in  the  evening  we  were  permitted  each  to  fish  out  his 
dinner  from  the  seething  mass.  That  was  my  first 
soldier's  supper  ;  and  after  all,  it  was  a  welcome  and 
relishing  meal. 

20* 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER   XXIX. 

Description  of  Neiv  Tendon — Fort  Trumbull—Fort  Grixwold — The  Brit 
ish  Fleet — Decatur  and  his  Ships  in  the  Thames — Commodore  Ifardy — 
Letters  from  Home — Performances  of  the  Hartford  Company — Fishing 
— A  few  British  Broad/fides — Apprehensions  of  an  Attack — Great  Prep 
arations — Sober  Second  Thoughts — On  Guard — A  Suspicious  Customer 
— Alarm,  alarm  ! — Company  called  out — Expectations  of  instant  Battle 
—  Corporal  TSs  Nightmare — Consequences'- — Influence  of  Camp  Life — 
Return  to  Hartford — Land  Warrants — Blue  Lights — Decatur,  Biddle, 
and  Jones. 

MY  DEAR  C****** 

I  must  attempt  to  give  you  an  idea  of  our  posi 
tion,  as  now  established  in  our  barracks.  New  Lon 
don,  as  you  doubtless  know,  is  situated  on  the  west 
ern  bank  of  the  River  Thames,  three  miles  from  its 
mouth.  It  has  now  ten  or  twelve  thousand  inhabit 
ants,  but  at  the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  there  were  not 
more  than  four  thousand.  The  entrance  to  the  river 
is  broad,  and  affords  a  fine  harbor.  This  is  defended 
by  Fort  Trumbull  on  the  western  side  of  the  river, 
half  a  mile  below  the  city.  It  was  commanded,  at 
two  several  periods,  by  my  grandfather,  Colonel  Ely,* 
during  the  Revolutionary  war,  but  was  then  a  place 
of  little  strength.  It  fell  into  disrepair,  but  had  been 

*  "  Dr.  John  Ely,  of  Lynic  (1776),  performed  a  tour  of  duty  here  na 
captain  and  major,  and  also  as  physician  and  surgeon.  In  July  he  was 
sent  to  visit  the  northern  army,  and  employ  his  skill  in  arresting  tins 
small-pox,  which  was  then  raging  in  the  camp  with  great  virulence." — 
CauVffMs  History  of  New  London,  p.  521.  Colonels  Latitner,  Ely,  &c., 
performed  tours  of  duty,  with  their  respective  regiments,  at  New  Lon 
don  and  Groton,  1777. — Ibid.  p.  526. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  -467 

rebuilt,  and  contained  a  garrison  of  six  or  seven  hun 
dred  soldiers  during  the  war  of  1812.  It  has  recently 
been  reconstructed  on  an  ample  scale,  and  is  at  pres 
ent  one  of  the  most  complete  of  our  fortifications, 
mounting  eighty  heavy  guns,  and  having  accomrno 
dations  for  eight  hundred  men. 

Opposite  to  New  London  is  the  village  of  Groton, 
the  main  street  running  along  the  river  bank ;  on  an 
eminence  some  hundred  rods  from  the  river,  and  com 
manding  a  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  inclu 
ding  the  harbor  and  the  islands  which  lie  scattered 
near  it  in  the  Sound,  is  the  site  of  Fort  Griswold — 
the  scene  of  one  of  the  saddest  tragedies  in  our  revo 
lutionary  annals.  Here  is  now  a  monument  one  hun 
dred  and  thirty  feet  in  height,  erected  by  the  State, 
in  commemoration  of  this  event.  The  old  fort  is, 
however,  in  ruins,  though  a  small  attached  battery, 
lower  down,  and  more  suited  to  effective  defense  of 
the  harbor,  has  been  rebuilt.  In  my  time,  Fort  Gris 
wold  was  in  tolerable  repair.  Our  company,  as  well 
as  other  portions  of  the  militia,  labored  upon  it,  and 
strengthened  it,  as  well  by  completing  its  works  as 
by  erecting  a  small  redoubt  upon  the  southeastern 
side.  To  the  defense  of  the  latter,  in  case  of  attack, 
the  Hartford  company  was  assigned. 

About  a  week  after  our  arrival,  over  a  thousand 
militia,  gathered  from  various  parts  of  the  State,  were 
stationed  along  the  river,  chiefly  on  the  eastern  bank. 
Di-catur  had  drawn  his  three  ships  up  the  stream  as 


I.KTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL 


far  as  possible,  some  twelve  miles  from  its  mouth, 
and  near  the  city  of  Norwich.  Here  the  river  is  re 
duced  to  three  hundred  feet  in  width,  and  flows  be 
tween  high  rocky  banks.  On  one  of  these,  called 
Allyn's  Mountain — commanding  a  wide  view  even 
as  far  south  as  the  harbor — light  intrenchments  were 
thrown  up,  being  deemed  an  effectual  defense  against 
any  attack  likely  to  be  made  by  the  enemy. 

The  British  squadron  had  been  for  some  time  on 
the  coast.  As  early  as  April,  Commodore  Hardy,  in 
the  flag-ship  Kamiles,  with  the  Orpheus  and  other 
vessels,  having  erected  their  standard  on  Block  Isl 
and,  cruised  in  this  quarter.  The  people  of  New 
London,  who  had  hitherto  remained  sheltered  from 
the  war,  were  now  suddenly  reminded  of  the  British 
fleet  which  came  hither  under  the  vindictive  Arnold* 

*  Long  Island  Sound,  and  its  shores  on  both  sides,  were  the  scenes 
of  active  and  stirring  events  during  the  Revolutionary  war.  This  shoot 
of  water,  as  well  as  Long  Island  itself,  and  the  city  of  New  York  at  it* 
western  extremity,  were  for  a  long  time  in  the  possession  of  the  enemy. 
Litrge  British  fleets  were  often  seen  sweeping  through  the  Sound,  nnd 
always  carried  terror  into  the  towns  and  villages  of  Connecticut  along 
the  northern  shore.  On  the  5th  of  September,  1781,  a  fleet  of  thirty- 
two  vessels,  of  all  classes,  conveyed  to  New  London  a  force  of  about  two 
thousand  men.  These  were  landed  the  next  day,  and  marched  upon  the 
town.  All  was  panic  and  confusion  among  the  inhabitants.  Colonel 
Ledyard,  with  such  means  as  could  be  mustered,  took  his  station  at 
Fort  Griswold.  A  force  of  twenty-three  men  at  Fort  Trumbull — which 
was  only  a  battery  for  defense  toward  the  water,  and  open  behind — on 
the  approach  of  the  enemy,  fired  a  volley,  and  crossed  the  river  to  Fort 
Griswold.  Arnold,  amid  random  shots  which  did  some  execution,  en 
tered  the  town.  The  work  of  destruction  then  commenced.  The  torch 
was  applied,  and  a  long  line  of  fire  soon  enveloped  the  place.  Shops, 
htores,  housos,  vessels,  wharves,  boats,  rigging,  were  enveloped  in  smoke 
and  flame.  Hogsheads  of  sugar  and  rum,  and  tubs  of  butter  wero 
knocked  in,  and  the  flumes,  seizing  upon  the  alcohol  and  grease,  me 


HISTORICAL,   ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  469 

thirty  years  before,  and  left  behind  him  an  imr^rish 
able  remembrance  of  outrage  and  infamy. 

The  British  commander,  Hardy,  conducted  with 
the  utmost  courtesy  and  humanity,  but  still  there  was 
a  feeling  of  uneasiness  along  the  shore.  This  was 
deepened  into  anxiety  and  alarm,  on  the  arrival  of 
Decatur  and  his  ships,  and  the  consequent  gathering 
of  the  British  forces  around  the  harbor,  as  if  for  at- 

in  rivers  of  fire  along  the  gutters  of  the  streets.  Arnold  was  born 
near  this  place,  and  was  well  acquainted  with  it.  He  used  his  informa 
tion  to  effect  the  destruction  of  the  best  parts  of  the  city,  nnd  nearly 
nil  its  stores  of  merchandise,  &c. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  a  deeper  tragedy  was  being  enacted. 
Colonel  Eyre  had  been  dispatched  against  Fort  Griswold  with  two  Brit 
ish  regiments.  The  fort  itself  was  an  oblong  square,  with  bastions  at 
opposite  angles — its  long  side  fronting  the  river.  Its  defenders,  under 
Colonel  Ledyard,  were  but  one  hundred  and  fifty  men.  About  noon 
the  enemy  made  their  attack  in  solid  column.  They  were  at  first  re 
ceived  with  a  few  deadly  volleys,  and  then  by  a  quick,  steady,  destruc 
tive  fire.  Both  attack  and  defense  were  firm  and  determined.  The  men 
within  seemed  each  a  hero.  The  two  British  commanders  fell.  But 
the  enemy  at  last  conquered  by  numbers.  They  marched  in,  and  Col. 
Ledyard  ordered  his  men  to  throw  down  their  arms.  A  few,  however, 
in  one  of  the  bastions  still  resisted.  This  irritated  the  British,  and 
they  continued  their  deadly  fire  from  the  parapets,  even  upon  the  sur 
rendered  Americans. 

At  last,  the  British  .major,  Bromfield,  on  whom  the  command  had 
devolved,  entered,  and  demanded,  "  Who  commands  this  fort  ?"  "  I 
did,"  said  Col.  Ledyard,  "  but  you  do  now."  At  the  same  time,  he 
presented  his  sword,  in  token  of  submission.  The  ferocious  command 
er  took  the  weapon  and  plunged  it  in  the  owner's  bosom  !  At  the  same 
moment  the  attendants  rushed  upon  the  prostrate  and  bleeding  vic 
tim,  and  dispatched  him  with  their  bayonets.  The  work  of  butchery 
then  went  on  against  the  survivors.  At  last  the  enemy  departed,  leav 
ing  eighty-five  Americans  dead,  and  about  thirty-five  regarded  as  mor 
tally  wounded — having  first  stripped  them,  and  then  leaving  them  ex 
posed  to  the  broiling  suii.  More  than  half  this  butchery  took  place 
sifter  the  surrender  A  small  number,  who  survived,  were  taken  away 
as  prisoners. 

Such  was  the  desolating  expedition  of  the  traitor,  Benedict  Arnnlij, 


470  I.KTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

tack^  When  we  arrived,  the  squadron  consisted,  1 
think,  of  two  ships-of-the-line,  two  frigates,  and  a 
number  of  smaller  vessels.  There  was,  however,  a 
constant  movement  among  them — the  force  being 
frequently  diminished,  and  as  frequently  augmented. 
These  changes  were  the  occasion  of  constant  alarm 
along  the  shore,  and  scarcely  a  day  passed  that  we 
had  not  some  rumor  of  a  meditated  attack. 

Such  was  the  state  of  public  affairs  on  the  surface. 
As  to  myself,  I  was  soon  drilled  into  the  habits  of  a 
soldier.  I  had  been  permitted  to  go  to  New  London 
and  deliver  my  letters  of  introduction.  I  received 
letters  from  home,  and  in  one  of  these,  from  my  father, 
which  I  have  preserved,  I  find  the  following  passages  : 

'•  We  hope  you  will  pay  very  exact  attention  to  your  conduct 
and  behavior,  while  you  are  a  soldier.  You  have  our  prayers 
for  your  welfare  and  that  of  your  comrades.  Study  to  ingra 
tiate  yourself  with  them,  by  your  kindness,  and  especially  with 
your  officers,  by  your  cheerful  obedience  to  their  orders.  We 


against  New  London.  It  adds  to  the  horror,  inspired  by  such  de 
tails,  to  know  that  he  was  accompanied  by  a  large  number  of  Ameri 
cans,  who,  however,  had  joined  the  British,  and  thus  came  to  aid  in 
the  work  of  death,  rain,  and  despair.  Such  is  war.  The  next  day,  the 
ships,  having  received  the  troops,  departed,  leaving  a  dreadful  scene  of 
havoc  and  desolation  behind  them.  New  London  was,  indeed,  little 
better  than  a  ruin. 

The  memory  of  this  event,  and  the  natural  hatred  consequently  in 
spired  by  the  British  name,  still  lives  here  and  in  the  neighborhood. 
Tie  anniversary  of  the  massacre  at  Groton  fort  was  long  celebrated  with 
sad  solemnities.  A  lofty  monument  now  points  to  heaven,  in  protect 
against  the  crime  it  records.  Such  deeds  never  die,  and  the  world  is 
dotted  all  over  with  them — too  many  perpetrated  by  men  who  bore  the 
British  namo.  Is  this  the  explanation  of  the  general  dislike  of  Great 
I'.ri'.a'n.  tlinniirhont  the  civilized  world  ? 


HISTORICAL,  ANKCDOTICAL,  ETC.  4<  1 

hear  that  there  is  an  additional  British  force  arrived  within  a 
few  days.  How  Jong  they  will  think  it  worth  while  to  keep  up 
the  blockade  at  New  London,  is  uncertain :  they  will  not,  at 
any  rate,  consult  our  convenience.  We  are  in  hopes  the  British 
will  make  no  attack  upon  New  London,  and  that  you  will  not 
be  called  into  a  conflict  with  them.  But  we  must  leave  this  to 
the  overruling  of  a  merciful  God,  as  also  the  issue,  should  he 
permit  such  an  event.  Should  you  be  called  to  engage  with 
them,  I  hope  and  trust  that  you  will  do  your  duty,  and  defend 
your  country,  which  is  just  and  right,  though  it  may  not  be  so 
to  engage  in  offensive  war. 

"  I  wish  to  remind  you,  my  dear  son,  of  the  necessity  of  being 
prepared  for  death,  at  all  times  and  by  all  persons.  This  is  spe 
cially  important  to  a  soldier.  This  will  arm  you  with  courage 
to  meet  whatever  God  shall  call  you  to  experience.  It  is  no 
evidence  of  courage  for  persons  to  rush  into  danger  in  a  thought 
less  or  wicked  manner ;  it  is  a  better  and  surer  courage  which 
rests  upon  a  deep  sense  of  duty,  and  which  always  keeps  the 
soldier  ready  to  die  at  any  moment — even  at  the  beat  of  the 
drum." 

There,  my  dear  C  . . . .,  is  a  specimen  of  old  Pres 
byterian,  Blue  Light,  Hartford  Convention  Federal 
ism,  during  the  "late  war!"  It  was  good  doctrine 
then,  and  it  is  good  doctrine  now :  good  to  live  by, 
and  good  to  die  by.  At  all  events,  as  this  letter 
came  from  home,  and  told  me  of  the  welfare  of  m^y 
friends ;  as  it  came  also  with  a  large  bundle  of  tea, 
sugar,  dried  beef,  and  other  things,  with  several  pairs 
of  stockings,  mended  up  by  my  mother,  and  abun 
dance  of  messages  and  good  wishes,  and  sundry  letters 
and  scraps  of  letters — it  put  me  in  good  heart,  wheth 
er  for  peace  or  war.  Who  would  not  be  a  soldier,  it 


4  i  2  I.K TTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

thereby  he  becomes  the  object  of  such  sympathy  ? 
Fortified  by  this  aid  and  comfort,*  I  could  cheerfully 
have  gone  to  fight  the  British,  or  anybody  else 
"  where  duty  called  me." 

The  officers  of  our  company  were  rigid  disciphna 
rians,  and  accordingly  we  were  drilled  for  about  four 
hours  each  day.  We  soon  gained  much  reputation 
for  our  martial  exercises  and  our  tidy  appearance. 
Many  people  came  over  from  New  London  to  wit 
ness  our  performances.  Among  these  were  often 
persons  of  distinction.  On  two  occasions,  Decatur, 
Biddle,  and  Jones  came  to  see  us,  and  complimented 
us  very  heartily.  On  Sundays,  we  marched  two  miles 
to  church.  Being  in  our  best  guise,  we  caused  quite 
a  sensation.  Men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  stream 
ed  along  at  our  flanks,  often  in  a  broiling  sun,  yet 
always  with  admiring  looks. 

After  the  morning  drill,  we  were  generally  at 
leisure  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  taking  our  turns,  how 
ever,  on  guard,  and  in  other  occasional  duties.  Most 

*  Among  the  letters  alluded  to,  was  the  following : 

HABTFOKD,  June  12,  1313. 
MY  DEAR  SAKUKL  : 

I  had  the  pleasure  to  receive  yesterday  your  letter  by  Mr.  Whiting. 
I  am  happy  to  be  informed  of  your  health,  and  that  you  have  the  good 
fare  of  a  soldier :  whatever  it  may  want  of  the  delicacies  of  the  luxu 
rious  table  of  the  citizen,  will  be  made  up  to  you  in  the  zest  you  will 
have  when  you  return  to  it.  The  principal  thing  you  have  to  attend 
to  is  the  care  of  your  health,  and  that  also  you  will  best  learn,  as  we  do 
every  thing,  by  experience.  Your  father  will  be  here  to-day.  We  are 
all  well.  Write  by  every  opportunity. 

Your  affectionate  uncle.  CHAUNCEY  GOODRICH. 


JTTSTOUTCAI.,  ANECDOTICAL,  KTC.  473 

of  the  soldiers  gave  up  their  rations  of  mess  beef 
and  potatoes,  and  lived  on  their  own  resources.  We 
formed  ourselves  into  a  general  club  for  a  supply  of 
fresh  fish.  Every  day  three  of  us  went  out  fishing, 
and  generally  returned  with  a  half-bushel  basketful 
of  various  kinds,  among  which  the  blackfish  or  ta- 
taug — now  so  greatly  esteemed — was  always  abun 
dant.  I  was  employed  by  the  captain  to  keep  his 
journal  of  our  proceedings,  and  sometimes  I  was  dis 
patched  to  New  London,  or  to  some  one  of  the  officers 
along  the  line,  with  a  letter  or  a  parcel.  I  established 
a  friendly  acquaintance  with  ol  1  Mrs.  Avery,  who 
kept  a  supply  of  excellent  bread  and  butter,  milk 
and  eggs.  I  visited  Fort  Trumbull,  and  the  block 
aded  fleet  up  the  river.  Frequently  I  strolled  into 
the  country,  and  now  and  then  went  to  see  "  Mrs. 
Bailey,"  who  even  at  that  early  period  was  a  ce 
lebrity  of  Groton.  I  have  never  seen  such  fierce  de 
mocracy  as  in  this  village,  fed,  as  it  doubtless  is,  upon 
the  remembrance  of  the  British  massacre  at  the  fort ; 
and  Mrs.  Bailey  was  filled  with  its  most  peppery  es 
sence.  The  story  of  the  flannel  petticoat*  was  then 


*  When  Decatur  took  refuge  in  New  London  harbor,  the  inhabitants 
of  Groton  were  thrown  into  great  alarm.  At  this  moment  a  messenger 
was  sent  to  Fort  Griswold  for  flannel,  to  be  used  for  the  cannon. 
Most  of  the  portable  goods  had  been  sent  away,  and  the  messenger  was 
unsuccessful,  until  he  met  Mrs.  Anna  Bailey,  who  instantly  took  oif  her 
flannel  petticoat  and  heartily  devoted  it  to  the  patriotic  cause  of  defense. 
It  was  carried  to  the  fortress,  and  displayed  on  a  pike.  The  story  being 
told,  the  garrison  cheered,  and  the  "  martial  petticoat"  became  almost  && 
celebrated  as  Mahomet's  breeches.  The  storv  went  over  the  whole 


474  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

recent,  but  it  had  marked  her  for  immortality.  All 
the  soldiers  went  to  see  her,  and  she  sang  Jefferson 
and  Liberty  to  them  with  great  spirit.  Once  a  sol 
dier  talked  "  old  federalism"  to  her,  by  way  of  jest : 
whereupon  she  got  up,  and  holding  out  her  petticoat, 
danced  and  sang  Jefferson  and  Liberty  at  him,  as  if 
that  were  sufficient  to  strike  him  dead. 

I  remember  that  on  one  occasion  H . . . .  A  ...  , 
my  special  companion,  and  myself,  were  sent  with  a 
letter  to  a  lieutenant,  who  commanded  a  small  picket 
on  the  eastern  shore,  near  the  mouth  of  the  river — 
that  is,  at  Point  Groton.  It  was  a  distance  of  some 
three  miles.  The  weather  was  pleasant,  and  our  route 
lay  along  the  shore  of  the  stream,  which  opens  into 
a  wide  bay,  as  it  meets  the  Sound.  As  we  approach 
ed  the  southern  point  of  the  shore,  we  found  our 
selves  quite  near  to  the  British  squadron.  One  of 
the  vessels,  which  we  knew  as  the  Acasta* — for  we 
had  learned  all  their  names — was  under  full  sail  in 
a  light  wind,  and  coming  up  toward  the  shore.  She 
was  already  so  near  that  we  could  see  the  men,  and 
note  every  movement  on  the  deck.  While  we  were 
admiring  the  beautiful  appearance  of  the  ship,  we 
suddenly  saw  several  white  puffs  issue  from  her  sides, 

country,  and  when  General  Jacksou  (then  President)  came  to  New  Lon 
don,  lie  visited  this  lady.  She  is  said  to  have  given  him  a  very  demon 
strative  reception.  She  died  January  10,  1851,  aged  92  years. 

*  Thia  ship  was  noted  for  her  beauty :  she  \va8  in  tact  the  belle  of 
the  fleet,  and  was  said  to  have  been  built  for  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who 
served  in  the  navy  till  he  became  admiral,  and  was  afterward  Kin^  of 
England,  under  the  title  of  \ViHinin  IV. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  475 

and  uncoil  themselves  into  volumes  of  smoke.  Then 
came  a  deafening  roar ;  a  moment  after,  and  in  the 
very  midst  of  it,  there  were  wild  howls  in  the  air, 
above  our  heads.  At  a  little  distance  beyond,  the 
ground  was  plowed  up,  scattering  the  soil  around, 
and  the  top  of  one  of  the  forest  trees,  of  which  a 
few  were  scattered  here  and  there,  was  cut  asunder, 
and  fell  almost  at  our  feet. 

We  understood  the  joke  in  an  instant,  and  so  did 
the  lieutenant  who  commanded  the  picket.  He  was 
the  object  of  the  attack,  and  the  broadside  of  the 
Acasta,  sending  its  shot  over  our  heads,  had  hurled 
one  or  two  balls  crashing  through  the  roof  of  the  little 
fish-hut,  which  he  and  his  men  occupied.  In  less  than 
five  minutes,  they  were  seen  trotting  off  at  a  round 
pace,  with  their  cannon,  jerking  right  and  left,  over 
the  rough  ground  behind  them.  Several  other  shots 
were  given,  but  the  party  escaped  in  safety.  My 
companion  and  myself  ensconced  ourselves  behind 
the  rocks,  and  though  it  was  grave  sport,  we  enjoyed 
it  exceedingly.  "We  could  trace  the  cannon-balls  as 
they  flew  by  looking  like  globes  of  mist,  twinkling 
through  the  air.  Several  of  them  passed  close  over 
our  heads,  and  grooved  the  earth,  in  long  trenches,  at 
our  sides.  The  noise  they  made,  as  they  rose  high 
in  the  air,  was  a  strange  mixture,  between  a  howl  and 
a  scream.  After  having  thus  showed  her  teeth,  and 
made  a  great  noise,  the  frigate  returned  to  her  an 
chorage,  and  all  was  quiet.  I  hope  I  shall  not  de- 


476  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

grade  myself,  as  a  soldier,  in  your  eyes,  by  confess 
ing  that  this  was  the  only  battle  in  which  I  was  en 
gaged  during  this  glorious  war  ! 

I  must,  however,  mention  one  circumstance,  which 
tried  the  souls  of  our  company.  Let  me  premise  that, 
on  a  certain  Saturday,  a  large  accession  to  the  British 
force  arrived  in  the  bay,  the  whole  number  of  vessels, 
of  all  kinds,  amounting  to  fourteen.  This  looked 
very  much  like  an  attack,  and  accordingly  there  was 
a  feverish  anxiety  among  the  inhabitants  of  New 
London  and  the  vicinity,  and  a  general  bustle  in  the 
army,  from  Groton  Point  to  Allyn's  Mountain.  A 
large  body  of  militia  was  set  to  work  upon  Fort 
Griswold.  Our  company  was  drilled  in  the  little  re 
doubt  which  we  were  to  defend,  and  every  prepara 
tion  was  made  to  give  the  enemy  a  warm  reception. 
The  general  idea  was,  that  a  landing  of  British  troops 
would  be  made  on  the  eastern  side,  and  that  we 
should  take  the  brunt  of  the  first  attack. 

The  sun  set  in  clouds,  and  as  the  evening  advanced, 
bursts  of  thunder,  attended  by  flashes  of  lightning, 
muttered  along  the  distant  horizon.  Our  company 
were  admonished  to  sleep  on  their  arms.  Every 
thing  wore  a  rather  ominous  appearance.  There  were 
no  signs  of  cowardice  in  the  men,  but  they  looked 
thoughtful ;  and  when  Bill  W  . . . .,  the  laureate  wit 
of  the  company,  let  off  some  of  his  best  jokes — 
which  would  ordinarily  have  set  the  whole  corps  in  a 
roar — he  was  answered  by  a  dead  silence.  It  chanced 


.HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  477 

that  I  was  that  night  on  guard.  My  turn  came  at 
ten  o'clock.  Taking  ray  gun,  I  paced  the  bank  of 
the  river,  back  and  forth,  in  front  of  our  barracks. 
I  had  received  orders  to  let  nothing  pass,  by  land  or 
water.  It  was  intensely  dark,  but  at  frequent  inter 
vals,  thin  flashes  of  lightning  sprang  up  against  the 
distant  sky,  behind  dark  rolling  masses  of  clouds. 

Gradually  the  lights  in  the  streets  and  windows  of 
New  London,  stretching  in  a  long  line  on  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  river,  were  extinguished  one  by  one, 
a  few  remaining,  however,  as  sentinels,  indicating 
anxiety  and  watchfulness.  The  sounds  on  all  sides 
were  at  last  hushed,  and  left  the  world  to  darkness 
and  to  me.  More  than  half  of  my  two-hours'  watch, 
had  passed,  when  I  heard  the  dip  of  oars  and  the  flap 
ping  of  waves  against  the  prow  of  a  boat.  I  looked 
in  the  direction  of  the  sounds,  and  at  last  descried 
the  dusky  outline  of  a  small  craft,  stealing  down  the 
river.  I  cried  out — "  Boat  ahoy  !  who  goes  there  ?" 
My  voice  echoed  portentously  in  the  silence,  but  no 
answer  was  given,  and  the  low,  black,  raking  appari 
tion  glided  on  its  way.  Again  I  challenged,  but  there 
was  still  no  reply.  On  went  the  ghost !  I  cocked  my 
gun.  The  click  sounded  ominously  on  the  still  night 
air.  I  began  to  consider  the  horror  of  shooting  some 
fellow-being  in  the  dark.  I  called  a  third  time,  and 
not  without  avail.  The  rudder  was  turned,  the  boat 
whirled  on  her  heel,  and  a  man  came  ashore.  Ac 
cording  to  my  orders,  I  marshaled  him  to  the  guard- 


478  LKTTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL. 

room,  and  gave  notice  of  what  had  happened,  to  the 
captain.  The  man  was  only  a  fisherman,  going  home, 
but  he  was  detained  till  morning.  So,  you  see,  I  can 
boast  that  I  made  one  prisoner.  My  watch  was  soon 
over,  and  returning  to  my  station,  I  laid  down  to  sleep. 

All  was  soon  quiet,  and  I  was  buried  in  profound 
repose,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  cry  in  the  main 
barrack-room,  overhead — "  Alarm !  alarm !" 

"Alarm!  alarm!"  was  echoed  by  twenty  voices, 
attended  by  quick,  shuffling  sounds,  and  followed  by 
a  hurried  rush  of  men  down  the  staircase.  A  moment 
after,  the  guard  in  front  discharged  his  musket,  and 
was  answered  by  a  long  line  of  reports,  up  and  down 
the  river,  from  the  various  sentinels  extending  for 
half  a  dozen  miles.  Then  came  the  roll  of  drums,  and 
the  mustering  of  the  men.  Several  of  our  company 
had  been  out  to  see  what  was  going  on  :  they  came 
back,  saying  that  the  enemy  was  approaching !  J. 
M  . . . .  distinctly  heard  the  roar  of  cannon,  and  posi 
tively  saw  the  flashes  of  muskets.  B.  W  . . . .  found 
out  that  the  attack  had  already  begun  upon  our 
southern  pickets.  Nobody  doubted  that  our  time 
had  come! 

In  a  very  few  minutes  our  company  was  drawn  up 
in  line,  and  the  roll  was  called.  It  was  still  dark,  but 
the  faint  flashes  gave  us  now  and  then  a  glimpse  ol 
each  other's  faces.  I  think  we  were  a  ghostly  look 
ing  set,  but  it  was  perhaps  owing  to  the  bluish  com 
plexion  of  the  light.  J.  S  . . . .,  of  West  Hartford,  who 


HISTORICAL,    ANKCDOTICAL,    ETC.  479 

marched  at  my  left  shoulder — usually  the  lightest- 
hearted  fellow  in  the  company — whispered  to  me, 
"  Goodrich,  I'd  give  fifty  dollars  to  be  at  West  Divi 
sion  !"  For  myself,  I  felt  rather  serious,  and  asked 
a  certain  anxious  feeling  in  my  stomach — "  What's  to 
be  done  ?"  I  thought  of  my  father's  letter,  and  my 
uncle's  injunctions,  and  having  settled  it  in  my  mind 
that  I  must  fight,  I  closed  my  thoughts  against  all 
consequences,  and  felt  that  I  was  ready  for  the  conflict. 
I  was  indeed  almost  anxious  to  have  it  come,  as  the 
suspense  was  painful.  I  afterward  found,  on  conver 
sing  with  several  members  of  the  company,  that  very 
similar  trains  of  thought  had  occurred  to  them.  John 
son,  our  captain,  was  a  man  of  nerve  and  ready  speech. 
When  the  roll  was  finished,  he  said  in  a  clear,  hearty 
tone,  "  All  right,  my  good  fellows  !  Every  man  at 
his  post !"  These  few  words — which  were,  however, 
more  politic  than  true,  for  one  fellow  was  taken  with 
sudden  colic,  and  could  not  be  got  out — were  electri 
cal.  We  were  ready  to  take  our  places  in  the  redoubt. 

Messengers  were  now  sent  to  the  two  neighboring 
posts  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  facts.  Word  was 
brought  that  the  first  alarm  came  from  our  barracks ! 
The  matter  was  inquired  into,  and  it  turned  out  that 

the  whole  affair  was  originated  by  our  Corporal  T , 

who,  in  a  fit  of  nightmare,  jumped  up  and  cried, 
"Alarm!  alarm!" 

Our  martial  ardor  soon  reconciled  itself  to  this 
rather  ludicrous  denouement,  though  several  persons, 


480 


LETTERS — BIOGK  APH  1C  A I ., 


who  had  been  somewhat  chapfallen,  became  suddenly 
inflated  with  courage,  which  signalized  itself  with  out 
bursts  of—"  D the  British  !"  "  They're  a  pack  of 

sneaking  cowards,  after  all !"  and  the  like.  The  next 
morning  was  fresh  and  fair.  The  skirmishing  thun 
der-gusts  of  the  night  had  cleared  the  air,  and  even 
distant  objects  seemed  near  at  hand.  Before  us  lay 
the  whole  British  fleet,  still  and  harmless,  in  the 
glassy  bay.  My  left-hand  chum,  J.  S  . . . . ,  who,  in 
the  dark  hour,  would  have  given  fifty  dollars  to  be 
at  "West  Division,  was  now  himself  again.  "  Come 
on  here,  you  black  old  Kamiles  !"  said  he — dashing 
the  doubled  fist  of  his  right  hand  into  the  palm  of 
his  left :  "  come  on  here,  you  black-hearted  British 
bull-dogs,  and  we'll  do  your  business  for  you !"  &c. 

Notwithstanding  our  military  duties,  you  will  read 
ily  comprehend  that  we  had  a  good  deal  of  leisure. 
For  the  most  part,  this  idle  time  was  wasted,  or  worse 
than  wasted.  The  atmosphere  of  a  camp  presents  a 
fearful  ordeal  for  all,  but  more  especially  for  the 
young  soldier.  The  restraints  of  society  being  with 
drawn,  the  seducing  and  corrupting  influences  which 
naturally  spring  up  and  riot  in  such  a  soil,  too  often 
lead  captive  the  strong  as  well  as  the  weak.  The 
military  spirit  is  opposed  to  reflection  :  it  is  reckless, 
banishes  thought,  and  teaches  a  kind  of  self-aban 
donment.  Our  officers  set  an  excellent  example,  and 
there  was  less  of  degradation  in  our  company  than  in 
others.  Still,  among  us,  there  was  a  general  reading 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  iSl 

of  bad  books,  a  great  deal  of  petty  gambling,  and  not 
a  little  tippling.  It  was  easy  to  see,  week  by  week, 
the  gradual  wearing  away  of  the  sense  of  propriety, 
of  gentlemanly  tastes,  and  general  conservatism,  in 
at  least  one-half  the  young  men  of  our  company.  A 
similar  declension  was  visible  throughout  the  whole 
body  of  militia  along  the  line.  My  own  conviction 
was  and  is,  that  military  life  is  exceedingly  degra 
ding,  and  especially  to  militia,  who  are  suddenly 
called  away  from  the  usual  safeguards  of  virtue,  and 
exposed  to  new  and 'unexpected  seductions. 

Fortunately  our  period  of  service  was  brief.  In 
about  six  weeks  from  the  time  of  our  departure,  we 
were  dismissed,  and  returned  to  our  homes.  Thus 
closed  my  military  career,  so  far  as  relates  to  active 
service.  The  remembrances  of  my  first  and  last  cam 
paign  are,  on  the  whole,  pleasant.  There  were  feel 
ings  of  fraternity  established  between  the  members 
of  the  company  which  have  'continued  to  this  day, 
save  only  in  regard  to  those  which  the  grave  has 
sundered.  My  country  has  not  been  unmindful  of 
my  services ;  for  I  have  received  two  land-warrants — 
giving  me  a  title  to  some  hundred  and  sixty  acres — 
with  the  fresh  virgin  soil  of  the  Far  West  upon  them. 
Say  not  that  republics  are  ungrateful ! 

A  few  words  more,  and  this  chapter  is  done.  You 
have  doubtless  heard  about  the  "  Connecticut  Blue 
Lights,"  and  of  course  conceive  the  term  to  imply 
eome  ignominious  stain  upon  the  reputation  of  this, 

VOL.  I.— 21 


482  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

the  "land  of  steady  habits."  You  will  expect  me, 
therefore,  to  tell  you  the  story  of  its  origin. 

The  preceding  pages  have  shown  you  that  Deca- 
tur,  commanding  the  American  frigate  United  States, 
after  a  brief  and  glorious  career  upon  the  ocean,  sub 
sequent  to  the  declaration  of  war,  had  been  driven 
into  the  Thames  with  his  prize,  the  Macedonian,  and 
the  sloop-of-war  Hornet.  Here  they  were  all  cooped 
up,  like  strong  men  bound  hand  and  foot.  You 
can  readily  imagine  the  effect  of  such  a  situation 
upon  a  person  like  Decatur.  He  was — as  all  the 
world  knows — of  an  ardent  and  impetuous  tempera 
ment — impulsive,  impatient,  irascible.  No  man  was 
ever  less  qualified  to  endure  the  protracted  and  in 
glorious  idleness  of  his  present  position.  He  was 
high-hearted,  patriotic,  proud  of  the  navy :  he  was 
ambitious,  and  panted  for  glory.  His  bleeding  coun 
try  needed  his  services :  his  fellow-officers  of  the 
navy  were  lighting  the  face  of  the  ocean  in  both  hem 
ispheres  with  their  brilliant  exploits.  He  was  im 
prisoned,  and  with  him  three  noble  ships.  How  then 
must  he  have  panted  to  be  free  ! 

I  have  told  you  that  I  saw  him  on  several  occasions. 
He  was  rather  below  the  middle  size,  but  of  a  remark 
ably  compact  and  symmetrical  form.  He  was  broad- 
shouldered,  full-chested,  thin  in  the  flank :  his  eye 
was  black,  piercing,  and  lit  with  a  spark  of  fire.  His 
nose  was  thin,  and  slightly  hooked:  his  lips  were 
firm,  his  chin  small,  but  smartly  developed.  His 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  4:83 

whole  face  was  long  and  bony ;  his  complexion 
swarthy  ;  his  hair  jet  black,  and  twisted  in  ropy  curls 
down  his  forehead  and  over  his  ears.  Altogether  he 
was  a  remarkable  looking  man,  and  riveted  the  at 
tention  of  every  one  who  saw  him.  By  the  side  of 
the  quiet,  thoughtful  Jones,  and  the  dark,  handsome, 
complacent  Biddle — his  fellow-prisoners — he  seemed 
like  a  caged  eagle,  ready  to  rend  in  atoms  the  bars 
which  restrained  him. 

Decatur  did  not  conceal  his  impatience  :  his  ill- 
humor  rendered  him  unjust.  He  was  not  chary  in 
his  speech,  and  in  fact  he  made  himself  many  ene 
mies  by  the  freedom  and  vehemence  with  which  he 
expressed  his  political  opinions.  Certainly  he  and 
the  citizens  of  New  London  were  heartily  tired  of 
each  other.  The  latter  were  indeed  most  anxious  to 
get  rid  of  him  and  his  squadron,  inasmuch  as  their 
presence  in  the  Thames  brought  upon  the  inhabitants 
all  the  dangers,  anxieties,  and  miseries  of  war. 

That  Decatur  should  desire  to  escape,  and  that  he 
should  have  the  co-operation  of  all  the  people  of  New 
London,  heart  and  hand,  would  seem  to  be  matters 
of  course.  At  last  he  resolved  to  make  the  attempt. 
In  October  he  began,  gently  and  quietly,  to  drop 
down  the  river,  and  by  the  last  of  November  was  in 
the  harbor  of  New  London.  On  the  night  of  the 
12th  of  December  all  things  were  prepared,  and  the 
vessels  were  about  to  depart,  in  the  hope  of  eluding 
the  blockading  squadron  in  the  darkness. 


4:84  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

Now  note  the  ominous  fact :  at  different  times, 
from  eight  to  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  blue  lights 
were  thrown  up,  apparently  from  the  land,  along  the 
shore,  and  on  both  sides  of  the  river.  Decatur  as 
sumed,  at  once,  that  these  were  signals,  sent  up  by 
traitorous  Americans,  announcing  to  the  enemy  his 
intended  departure.  So  positive  was  the  conclusion, 
that  he  totally  suspended  his  operations,  and  from 
that  time  made  no  further  efforts  to  escape.  He  wrote 
a  letter,  giving  an  account  of  the  affair,  and  did  not 
scruple  to  charge  the  assumed  treason  upon  the  peo 
ple  of.  New  London !  That  letter — unjust,  untrue, 
and  absurd  as  it  was — passed  into  the  history  of  the 
time,  and  party  rancor,  seizing  upon  the  slander,  has 
continued  to  use  it  to  the  present  day.  Blue.  Lights, 
meaning  treason  on  the  part  of  Connecticut  federal 
ism  during  the  war,  is  a  standard  word  in  the  flash 
dictionary  of  low  democracy. 

Now,  let  me  make  one  or  two  suggestions.  Be  it 
remembered,  that,  from  the  beginning,  Decatur  was 
mainly  indebted  to  the  federalists  of  Connecticut  for 
protection :  the  general  government  had  no  force  suf 
ficient  to  keep  the  enemy  at  bay,  when  he  sought 
shelter  in  the  Thames.  His  presence  there  brought 
expense,  anxiety,  gloom,  upon  the  State.  It  involved 
the  people  of  New  London  in  every  species  of  vexa 
tion,  disquietude,  and  danger.  How  absurd,  then — 
how  contrary  to  all  logic — to  accuse  them,  or  any  oi 
them,  of  attempting  to  prevent  his  departure,  which, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  4:85 

above  all  things,  was  what  they  desired !  Nothing 
but  the  obliquity  of  a  mind  diseased  by  disappoint 
ment,  can  excuse  such  a  charge,  made  in  the  face  of 
such  plain  and  palpable  contradiction. 

But  what  were  these  blue  lights  ?  Now  you  must 
understand  that  I  had  left  New  London  in  July,  and 
these  events  occurred  in  December.  Yet  while  I 
was  there,  blue  lights,  and  indeed  lights  of  various 
other  colors,  were  often  seen,  apparently  along  the 
shore;  and  it  was  generally  understood  that  these 
were  signals  thrown  up  from  the  British  ships,  or  per 
haps  from  parties  of  the  enemy  cruising  in  boats  among 
the  islands,  or  going  ashore  on  the  main  land.  It  was 
impossible,  in  most  cases,  to  determine  whether  these 
came  from  the  land  or  the  water  :*  at  all  events, 

*  This  fact  has  recently  been  recalled  to  my  mind  by  the  venerable 
Dr.  S.  H.  P.  Lee,  now  in  full  practice  at  New  York,  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
four  !  His  honse  in  New  London  commanded  a  view  of  the  harbor  and 
the  shipping.  He  frequently  saw  blue  lights  all  along  the  shore,  and 
confirms  the  fact  that  it  could  not  be  determined,  in  most  cases,  wheth 
er  they  came  from  the  sea  or  the  land.  They  were  always  attributed  to 
the  British.  He  conceives  that  the  charge  of  treason,  on  the  part  of  De- 
catur,  was  entirely  untrue  and  in  fact  absurd. 

Dr.  Lee  informs  me,  that  from  their  position,  the  British  had  no  diffi 
culty  in  knowing  every  thing  that  was  going  on  along  the  shore.  There 
was  no  rigid  police :  the  British  sailors  often  went  ashore  among  the  fish 
ermen,  as  well  on  the  islands  as  the  main  land  :  the  officers  not  unfre- 
quQntly  went  in  disguise  to  New  York,  and  even  into  the  interior.  After 
the  peace,  a  ball  was  given  to  Admiral  Hothain— then  commander  of  the 
station — and  his  officers,  at  New  London.  Dr.  Lee  and  his  two  sons  there 
recognized,  among  the  British  officers,  two  persons,  who,  during  the  war, 
were  passing  along  the  street,  and  at  his  invitation  stepped  up  into  his 
piazza  and  took  a  look  at  the  squadron  !  Of  coarse  every  movement  of 
Decatur's  was  known  to  the  enemy,  and  as  he  lay  in  New  London  har 
bor,  he  was  under  the  eye  of  their  telescopes.  They  no  doubt  penetra 
ted  his  designs,  and  seeiug  him  about  to  make  au  effort  to  escape,  sent 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

they  were  very  common.  They  were  always  attrib 
uted  to  the  British,  and  excited  no  particular  interest 
They  were  regarded  only  as  telegraphs  of  the  enemy, 
which,  in  general,  they  and  they  only  could  read. 

Now,  there  is  not  one  particle  of  evidence  that 
these  blue  lights,  seen  by  Decatur,  were  in  any  re 
spect  different  from  the  others,  familiar  to  everybody 
living  in  New  London.  They  were  never  traced, 
even  by  suspicion,  to  any  individual.  There  is  no 
proof  that  they  came  from  the  land ;  and  even  if  they 
did,  they  might  still  have  come  from  British  par 
ties  ashore.  Or,  if  they  were  the  work  of  traitors — 
Americans — these  were  isolated  individuals,  and  their 
conduct  would  have  been  held  in  abhorrence  by  the 
whole  people.  To  charge  it,  then,  upon  the  inhabit 
ants  of  New  London — to  attempt  thus  to  stain  the 
character  of  a  city,  and  indirectly  a  whole  State — was 
one  of  those  acts  which  should  have  excited  the  in 
dignation  of  every  honorable  mind. 

I  need  only  add,  that  I  have  never  met  an  indi 
vidual,  living  in  New  London  at  the  time,  who  did 
not  consider  this  imputation  as  absurd  in  itself,  and 


up  their  bine-light  telegraphs  to  direct  the  various  ships  to  he  upon  the 
alert.  While  such  an  interpretation  is  probable,  to  say  the  least,  it  is 
oad  logic  to  impute  treason,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  absurd  acts  of 
contradiction  to  their  own  interests,  to  the  people  of  New  London. 

I  give  this  testimony  of  Dr.  Lee  with  the  more  readiness,  as  he  is 
historically  known  for  his  courageous  and  beneficent  professional  con 
duct,  in  braving,  alone,  the  horrors  of  the  yellow  fever  at  New  London 
in  1799 — when  every  other  physician,  not  prostrated  by  the  disease,  had 
fled  from  it  in  terror.  Surelv  such  evidence  should  be  conclusive. 


HISTORICAL.  ANECDOTICAI.,  ETC.  487 

as  Having  no  foundation,  except  in  the  warped  and 
excited  imagination  of  Decatur.  I  believe  every 
member  of  the  Hartford  company  —  and  the}-  had 
good  opportunity  to  judge  of  the  matter — regarded 
it  in  this  light.  It  was  a  wrong  act  on  his  part,  and 
those  who  desire  to  cherish  his  fame — which  after 
all  is  one  of  the  glories  of  our  countr}- — should  ad 
mit  that  it  was  an  error,  and  do  what  they  may  to  re 
pair  it.  Those  who  seek  to  make  the  scandal  live, 
only  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  injustice  which 
originated  it.* 

*  Stephen  Decatur  was  born  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Maryland,  Jan. 
5,  1779.  In  1798,  he  entered  the  navy  as  midshipman  :  twice  he  pro 
ceeded  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  in  February,  1804,  he  recaptured  and 
burnt  the  American  frig-ate  Philadelphia,  in  the  harbor  of  Tripoli,  then 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  This  exploit  has  always  been  regarded  as 
one  of  the  most  successful  acts  of  skill  and  daring  on  record.  In  an 
attack  on  Tripoli,  the  following  August,  he  captured  two  of  the  enemy's 
-.  performing  feats  of  personal  courage  and  strength,  the  story  of 
which  reminds  us  of  the  fabled  achievements  of  knight-errantry.  His 
praise  was  on  the  tongue  of  all  his  countrymen.  He  superseded  Com 
modore  Barren,  in  the  command  of  the  Chesapeake,  after  the  shameful 
attack  of  the  Leopard  upon  that  vessel ;  he  then  became  commander  of 
the  frigate  United  States,  and  in  October.  1812,  captured  the  Macedonian, 
as  elsewhere  stated.  His  squadron  remained  at  New  London  till  the 
close  of  the  war.  but  he  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  Presi 
dent.  On  attempting  to  get  to  sea,  in  January,  1815,  he  was  captured 
bv  two  British  vessels,  and  carried  into  Bermuda.  In  February,  the 
war  being  over,  he  returned  to  the  United  States.  Being  dispatched 
with  a  squadron  to  the  Mediterranean,  he  soon  chastised  the  AJgerines, 
and  compelled  them  (June,  1815)  to  sign  a  treaty,  abandoning  their  pi 
racies,  and  liberating  those  of  our  countrymen  whom  they  held  in  cap 
tivity.  He  was  made  one  of  the  Navy  Commissioners  in  November,  and 
took  up  his  residence  at  Washington.  In  181 9,  he  had  a  long  correspond 
ence  with  Commodore  Barren,  which  issued  in  a  challenge  by  the  latter. 
The  meeting  took  place  at  Bladensburgh,  March  22,  1820.  At  the  first 
fire  Decatur  was  wounded,  and  being  carried  to  his  house,  died  that 
night  in  the  presence  of  his  distracted  wife.  Deep  emotions  of  admira- 


4:88  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 


LETTER  XXX. 

Continuation  of  the  War — The  Greeks  subdued — Battles  of  Chvppewa  and 
Bridgewater — Capture  of  Washington — Bladensburg  Races — Humili 
ation  of  the  President — Defence  of  Baltimore — The  Star-spangled  Ban- 
nei — Ravages  of  the  Co<.tstbythe  British  Fleet — Downfall  of  Napoleon 
— Scarcity  of  Money— Rag  Money — Bankruptcy  of  the  National  Treas 
ury — The  Specie  Bank-note,  orMr.  Sharp  and  Mr.  Sharper — Scarcity  and 
exorbitant  Prices  of  British  Goods — Depression,  of  all  Kinds  of  Business 
— My  Pocket-book  Factory — Naval  and  Land  Battle  at  Plattsburg — 
Universal  Gloom — State  of  New  England — Anxiety  of  the  Administra 
tion — Their  Instructions  to  the  Pence  Commissioners — Battle  of  New  Or 
leans — Peace — Illuminations  and  Rejoicings. 

MY    DEAK    C****** 

I  must  lay  aside,  for  the  present,  my  own  per 
sonal  history,  that  I  may  complete  this  hasty  sketch 
of  the  war.  I  now  approach  the  last  year — that  of 
1814 — which  happily  closed  the  inglorious  struggle. 

Merely  noticing  important  events,  I  remark  that 
the  Creek  war,  conducted  on  our  part  by  General 
Jackson,  and  ending  in  a  complete  humiliation  of  the 
savages,  early  in  this  year — however  it  abounded  in 
striking  incidents — made  little  immediate  impression 
upon  us  at  the  North,  partly  because  the  theater  ot 
operations  was  remote,  and  partly  because  it  was  over- 

tion  for  his  character,  and  horror  at  the  folly  of  the  last  act  of  1m  life, 
pervaded  the  whole  community. 

Commodore  Jacob  Jones  was  born  in  Delaware,  1770.  After  a  bril 
liant  professional  career,  he  died  at  Philadelphia,  August,  1850. 

Commodore  James  Biddle  was  born  at  Philadelphia,  1783.  He  dis 
tinguished  himself  as  a  commander,  and  also  in  some  diplomatic  services 
in  Turkey  and  China.  He  died  in  1848. 


HISTORICAL,  ANF.CDOTICAL,  ETC.  489 

shadowed  by  the  more  important  struggle  with  Great 
Britain.  The  battles  of  Chippewa  and  Bridgewater, 
in  July,  displaying  gallant  deeds  on  the  part  of  our 
troops — officers  as  well  as  men — everywhere  excited 
lively  demonstrations  of  sympathy.  I  think  the  suc 
cess  of  our  arms  was  always  cheered,  even  by  the  fed 
eralists — the  feeling  of  national  pride,  and  the  real  hos 
tility  to  Great  Britain,  triumphing  over  party  feeling. 
When  the  news  came  that — August  24th — the  city 
of  Washington  had  been  invaded,  captured,  desola 
ted — the  President  and  his  cabinet  having  actually 
fled  like  a  flock  of  sheep — there  was  a  deep,  burning 
sense  of  indignation  and  shame  :  indignation,  at  the 
want  of  forethou'ght,  courage,  and  conduct  on  the 
part  of  the  national  executive ;  and  shame,  at  the 
humiliating  spectacle  we  presented  to  the  world — we 
who  had  begun  the  war  in  boasting,  now  seeing  our 
officials  disgraced  by  pusillanimity,  and  our  capital 
desecrated  by  the  presence  and  occupation  of  an  en 
emy  !  I  shall  let  this  humiliating  page  in  our  his 
tory  pass,  with  the  simple  remark,  that  the  feeble  and 
cowardly  President  seems  on  that  occasion  to  have 
drunk  deep  of  the  bitter  cup  of  humiliation,  in  rec 
ompense  for  having  bartered  the  peace  of  the  coun 
try  for  the  poor  bauble  of  a  second  term  of  office. 
The  future  has,  doubtless,  some  instructive  light  to 
shed  upon  this  passage  of  our  national  history.* 

*  Whoever  wishes  to  see  a  detail  of  the  facts  in  this  case  will  find 
them  in  Hildreth's  United  States,  second  series,  page  i>o7.     There  waa 

21* 


4:90  LKTTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

A  few  weeks  after  the  capture  of  "Washington, 
the  British  troops,  led  by  General  Ross,  landed  at 
North  Point,  fourteen  miles  from  Baltimore,  and  im 
mediately  commenced  their  march  toward  the  city. 
They  were  met  by  the  American  militia,  and  in  a 
skirmish,  the  British  general  was  killed.  The  enemy 
advanced  the  next  morning  as  far  as  the  defenses  of 
that  place,  hastily  thrown  up  by  the  Americans  ;  here 
they  made  several  threatening  demonstrations,  but 
such  was  the  firm  and  formidable  front  of  the  Amer 
icans,  that  the  next  morning  they  silently  withdrew, 
and  speedily  embarked  on  board  their  shipping. 
While  the  British  were  marching  on  Baltimore,  the 
fleet  advanced  up  the  Patapsco,  and  bombarded  Fort 
McHenry  nearly  a  whole  day  and  night.  The  gal- 

41  . 

lant  and  effectual  defense  of  that  fortress,  gave  rise 
to  the  beautiful  national  song  of  the  "  Star-spangled 
Banner."* 


a  feeble  attempt  at  defense,  at  Bladensburg,  five  miles  from  Washing 
ton  ;  bat  the  United  States  troops  as  well  as  oar  militia  fled  npon  the 
first  fire  of  the  enemy.  The  President  and  bis  secretaries  dispersed  in 
like  manner.  This  scampering  was  satirized  under  the  name  of  the 
"  Bladensborg  .Races."  Madison  and  his  wife  found  refuge  in  a  Mary 
land  farm-house,  where  they  spent  two  days  and  three  nights  of  morti 
fication,  alarm,  and  insult  from  the  irritated  inhabitants.  After  a  short 
time  the  enemy  departed  :  another  party  of  them,  however,  had  made 
their  way  to  Alexandria,  where  they  compelled  the  inhabitants  to  sacri 
fice  all  their  merchandise  and  all  their  shipping  to  save  the  city.  Mad 
ison  returned  to  Washington,  and  in  order  to  hide  his  disgrace,  laid  all 
the  blame  to  Armstrong,  the  Secretary  of  War.  The  latter  retaliated, 
asserting  that  the  President  yielded  to  the  "  humor  of  a  village  mob, 
stimulated  by  faction  and  led  by  folly." 

*  The  author  of  this  admired  national  lyric  was  Francis  Scott  Key, 
of  Maryland,  born  August  1,  1779.     He  became  a  lawyer,  and  was  Dis- 


HISTORICAL.  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  491 

As  summer  advanced,  the  clouds  seemed  to  thick 
en  over  our  country  on  every  side.  The  coasts  of 
New  York  and  New  England  were  kept  in  a  con 
stant  state  of  anxiety  and  alarm,  by  British  squadrons 
sweeping  our  shipping  from  the  sea,  and  occasionally 
making  descents  upon  the  land.  The  treasury  of  the 
United  States  was  exhausted,*  and  the  government 

trict  Attorney  of  the  city  of  Washington,  where  he  died,  January,  1843. 
lie  wrote  several  songs,  though  not  for  publication,  as  he  seems  not  to 
have  duly  appreciated  them.  To  feel  the  full  force  of  the  Star-gpangled 
Banner,  it  is  necessary  to  know  its  origin.  A  gentleman  of  Baltimore 
had  gone  to  the  British  fleet  with  a  flag  of  truce,  in  order  to  get  a  friend 
of  his  released,  who  had  been  captured  at  Marlborongh.  He  was  not 
permitted  to  return,  as  he  might  give  information  of  the  intended  at 
tack  upon  Baltimore.  While  thus  on  board  a  British  vessel,  he  wit 
nessed  the  attack  upon  Fort  McHenry  during  the  whole  day.  When 
night  set  in,  the  flag,  which  still  floated,  was  hidden  from  his  view. 
The  bombardment  was  kept  np,  and  his  heart  was  agitated  with  the 
most  anxious  fears.  As  the  morning  roee,  he  had  the  unbounded  sat 
isfaction  of  seeing  the  banner  of  his  country  still  flying  aloft,  in  evi 
dence  of  successful  defence.  The  whole  story  is  admirably  told  in  the 
song. 

*  The  state  of  the  treasury,  as  presented  to  Congress  by  Campbell,  the 
Secretary,  in  Sept.  1814,  was  deplorable.  The  last  attempt  to  borrow  six 
millions  had  only  produced  offers  for  half  that  amount,  and  these  at  the 
rate  of  eighty  per  cent.  The  credit  of  the  government  was  indeed  al 
most  gone  :  specie  had  disappeared  ;  the  banks  had  generally  suspend 
ed  specie  payments  ;  the  currency  consisted  of  bank  notes,  at  a  large 
depreciation.  The  treasury  was  in  fact  empty,  and  large  debts  and  ex 
penses  were  -accumulating  and  soon  to  be  met.  Every  kind  of  scheme 
was  suggested  for  supplying  the  exhausted  and  discredited  treasury— 
new  loans,  increased  taxes,  various  kinds  of  government  stocks,  and 
finally  a  national  bank.  Dallas,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  proposed  a 
non-specie  paying  bank,  and  Calhoun  a  specie-paying  bank.  Neither  ot 
these  two  plans  succeeded.  The  Bank  of  the  United  States,  which  had  s»o 
remarkable  a  career,  and  was  finally  extinguished  by  Gen.  Jackson,  was 
chartered  April  10th,  1816,  the  plan  having  been  framed  by  Secretary 
Dallas.  It  was  in  fact  rather  a  democratic  institution  ;  the  federalists  at 
that  time  seeming  to  foresee  the  evils  which  followed,  strove  earnestly 
to  rcdnce  the  capital  of  thirty-five  millions  to  twenty  millions,  but  with 
out  avail. 


492  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

seemed  on  the  point  of  bankruptcy.  And  more  than 
all — Napoleon  had  fallen,  and  on  the  4th  of  April 
had  departed  for  his  exile  at  Elba  ;  the  allies  had  tri 
umphed — Great  Britain,  the  mistress  of  the  sea,  the 
leading  power  of  the  world,  was  now  free  to  turn 
her  whole  power  against  us  in  America.  She  was 
exasperated  by  the  feeling  that  we  had  declared  war 
against  her,  with  the  design  of  aiding  her  great  ene 
my  at  the  very  time  she  was  struggling  for  self-pres 
ervation  against  nearly  all  Europe,  which  he  had 
combined  against  her.  Already  the  veterans  who 
had  triumphed  under  Wellington,  were  collecting  in 
Canada,  and  the  ships,  long  occupied  in  the  Euro 
pean  war,  were  crowding  hither,  like  vultures,  eager 
for  their  prey.  Dismay  spread  along  the  whole  mari 
time  frontier,  where  the  inhabitants,  no  longer  placing 
any  reliance  upon  the  general  government,  which 
seemed  totally  paralyzed,  were  all  up  in  arms,  mus 
tering  and  drilling  with  one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  militia  in  the  field.  Portland,  Boston,  Prov 
idence,  New  Haven,  New  York,  Baltimore,  Eich- 
mond,  Norfolk,  Charleston,  Savannah,  were  busy  in 
throwing  up  fortifications.* 

I  remember  perfectly  well,  the  universal  state  of 
anxiety  and  depression  which  prevailed  in  New  Eng 
land  at  this  time.  The  acts  of  government,  the  move 
ments  of  fleets  and  armies,  furnish  no  idea  of  the  con- 

*  Hildreth,  second  series,  vol.  iii.  p.  524. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  493 

ditiou  of  society  in  its  daily  life.  Let  me  give  you  a 
few  items  as  indications  of  the  embarrassments,  vex 
ations,  and  privations  which  the  war  had  brought 
unto  every  man's  house  and  home.  Such  a  thing  as 
silver  or  gold  money  was  almost  unknown.  The  chief 
circulation  consisted  of  bills  of  suspended  banks,  or 
what  were  called  "facilities;"  that  is,  bank-notes,  au 
thorized  by  the  legislature  of  Connecticut,  redeemable 
in  three  years  after  the  war.  These  were  at  fifteen  to 
twenty-five  per  cent,  discount  compared  with  specie. 
Banks  issued  notes  of  fifty,  twenty-five,  and  twelve-and- 
a-half  cents.  Barbers  put  out  bills,  payable  in  sha 
ving,  and  various  institutions  adopted  a  similar  course. 
This  whole  mass  acquired  the  title  of  "rag  money," 
"  shin-plasters,"  &c. :  a  large  portion  of  it  was  noto 
riously  worthless,  either  as  being  counterfeit,  or  issued 
by  irresponsible  parties,  yet  it  generally  passed  with 
out  scrutiny.  I  recollect  a  person  at  a  turnpike-gate 
offered  a  five-dollar  bank-note,  and  received  in  change 
a  large,  greasy  wad  of  bills,  of  various  names,  hues, 
and  designs.  He  glanced  at  it,  and  said  to  the  keep 
er — "  Why,  half  of  this  is  counterfeit !" 

"  I  know  it,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  it  passes  just  as 
well  as  any  other." 

A  specie  bank-bill*  was  almost  an  object  of  worship. 
An  anecdote  will  illustrate  this.    In  our  city  of  H 


*  The  New  England  banks  continued  to  pay  specie,  but  their  notes  were 
rare.  The  bills  of  suspended  banks  of  the  Middle  States  and  "facili 
ties,"  constituted  the  chief  money  in  circulation. 


LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

there  were  a  shrewd  man  and  a  greedy  man,  who  had 
some  dealings  with  each  other  about  these  days,  when 
the  following  scene  occurred  : 

Shrewd  Man.  Do  you  recollect  giving  me  a  ten- 
dollar  bill  in  change  yesterday,  Mr.  C  .  .  . .  ? 

Greedy  Man.  No,  I  don't :  why  do  you  ask  ? 

S.  M.  Well,  I  found  a  specie  bill  of  ten  dollars  in 
my  purse,  and  I  thought,  perhaps,  I  might  have  re 
ceived  it  of  you.  You  remember  I  was  only  entitled 
to  a  facility,  and  not  to  a  specie  bill  ? 

Gr.  M.  Well,  I  dare  say  you  had  it  of  me :  let  me 
see  it. 

&  M.  There  it  is  ! 

G.  M.  Oh  yes ;  I  recollect  it  perfectly.  I'll  take 
it,  and  give  YUU  a  facility.  There ! 

S.  M.  Are  you  sure,  Mr.  C  . . . .,  that  you  gave  me 
that  specie  bill  ? 

O.  M.  Certainly,  certainly  :  I  recollect  it  distinctly. 

S.  M.  Well,  I'm  glad  you  are  sure,  for  they  tell  me 
the  specie  bill  is  counterfeit  I 

At  this  period,  all  kinds  of  British  merchandise  had 
become  very  scarce,  and  many  had  entirely  vanished 
from  the  market.  There  was  a  small  supply  of  certain 
articles,  from  time  to  time,  furnished  by  the  vessels 
captured  by  our  ships  and  privateers,  and  some  con 
venient  and  necessary  goods  were  smuggled  in  from 
Canada.  There  was,  in  fact,  a  large  amount  of 
money — and  this  was  all  specie — sent  to  the  British 
Provinces  for  pins,  needles,  jewelry,  laces,  muslins, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  495 

cambrics,  chintzes,  silks,  sewing-silk,  buttons,  &c., 
&c.  These  merchandises  were  so  costly  that  a  man 
would  frequently  carry  the  value  of  a  thousand  dol 
lars  in  a  pair  of  saddlebags,  sometimes  on  his  shoul 
ders,  and  sometimes  on  horseback.  The  life  of  the 
smuggler  along  the  line,  at  this  period,  was  one  of 
langer  and  adventure.  In  some  instances,  persons 
laid  the  foundations  of  future  fortune  in  this  illicit 
traffic.  I  recollect  very  well  the  prices  at  which 
we  sold  some  of  these  articles :  calico,  now  worth 
twelve  and  a  half  cents,  readily  brought  seventy-five 
cents  the  yard ;  cotton-cambric,  now  twenty  cents, 
then  a  dollar ;  linen  handkerchiefs,  now  fifty  cents, 
then  two  dollars  ;  fine  broadcloth,  now  five  dollars, 
then  twelve,  or  even  fifteen  dollars.  The  average 
prices  of  British  goods,  at  retail,  were  about  four  times 
what  they  are  now. 

In  point  of  fact,  however,  our  dry -goods  trade  was 
almost  destroyed.  Domestic  products  were  enor 
mously  dear — flour  at  one  time  eighteen  dollars  a  bar 
rel — at  Boston !  I  had  personal  experience  of  the 
universal  depression.  In  the  summer  of  1814,  I  was 
out  of  my  time,  and  cast  about  for  some  employment. 
I  went  to  New  York  for  this  object,  but  found  not  the 
slightest  encouragement.  After  some  reflection,  I 
established  a  manufactory  of  pocket-books,  in  connec 
tion  with  one  of  my  friends,  J.  S.  S . . . .,  who  furnished 
the  capital.  The  greatest  difficulty  was  to  find  the 
materials.  I  made  expeditions  to  Boston,  Charles- 


496  LKTTER8 BIOGRAPHICAL, 

ton,  Providence,  &c.,  and  was  not  able  to  obtain  over 
fifty  pieces  of  morocco  fit  for  the  purpose.  In  De 
cember  I  went  to  New  York,  and  was  more  success 
ful.  I  had  made  a  considerable  purchase,  and  dis 
patched  my  goods  by  the  wagoner,  for  you  will  re 
member  that  Long  Island  Sound  was  in  the  occupa 
tion  of  the  enemy.*  Pretty  well  content  with  my 
success,  I  had  gone  in  the  evening  to  a  concert  at  the 
City  Hotel.  While  listening  to  the  music,  there  was 
a  murmur  in  the  streets.  Soon  the  door  of  the 
concert-room  was  thrown  open,  and  in  rushed  a  man 
all  breathless  with  excitement.  He  mounted  on  a 
table,  and  swinging  a  white  handkerchief  aloft,  cried 
out — 

"Peace!  Peace!  Peace!" 

The  music  ceased :  the  hall  was  speedily  vacated. 
I  rushed  into  the  street,  and  oh,  what  a  scene  !  But, 
I  beg  your  pardon,  I  have  not  yet  done  with  the  war  ! 

Amidst  general  gloom  and  despondency,  a  broad 
ray  of  light  came  suddenly  from  the  north — the  gen 
eral  scene  of  disaster  and  disgrace.  In  the  spring  of 
this  year,  General  Wilkinson  was  superseded  by  Gen 
eral  Izard,  but  while  the  latter,  with  the  flower  ol 
the  American  army,  was  drawn  off  toward  Sackett's 
Harbor,  the  British  general,  Provost,  advanced  across 
the  country  toward  Plattsburg,  situated  on  the  west 
ern  side  of  Lake  Champlain.  Hitherto  the  enemy's 

*  Freight  from  New  York  to  Hartford,  now  fifty  cents  a  hundred, 
woe  then  four  dollars  a  hundred. 

7 


HISTOUICAI.,  ANECDOTICAI.,  ETC.  497 

force  in  this  quarter  hud  been  small,  but  now,  replen 
ished  by  the  veterans  who  had  fought  in  the  Penin 
sula  under  "Wellington,  and  who  had  seemed  invin 
cible,  he  mustered  twelve  thousand  men.  Macomb, 
the  American  commander,  left  with  only  three  thou 
sand  regular  troops,  was  soon  reinforced  by  three 
thousand. militia  from  Vermont  and  New  York.  He 
was  strongly  intrenched  behind  the  Saranac — which 
flows  through  Plattsburg  to  the  lake — and  here  the 
enemy  assailed  him.  The  British  fleet,  under  Com 
modore  Downie,  came  gallantly  on  to  their  assistance  : 
Macdonough,*  commander  of  the  American  squad 
ron,  now  closed  with  them,  and  then  carne  such  a  fight 
as  is  seldom  seen.  It  was  a  deadly  action  of  more 
than  two  hours — ship  to  ship,  broadside  to  broad 
side.  At  last  the  enemy  was  silenced — victory  was 
on  our  side.  Nearly  the  whole  British  fleet  was  cap 
tured.  This  was  decisive  of  the  conflict  in  this  quar 
ter.  Simultaneously  with  the  naval  attack,  the  land 
forces  of  the  enemy  had  advanced  against  the  Amer 
icans  under  Macomb.  But  the  defeat  of  the  naval 


*  Thomas  Macdonough  was  a  native  of  Delaware,  ivnd  was  born  in  1784. 
When  the  battle  of  Lake  Champlaiu  was  fought,  he  was  but  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age.  In  commemoration  of  his  victory,  the  citizens  of 
Hartford  presented  him  with  a  splendid  sword.  I  recollect  the  occasion, 
and  the  appearance  of  the  gallant  officer.  He  was  nearly  six  feet  high, 
very  broad-shouldered,  with  a  small  head,  but  finely  set,  so  as  to  give 
a  look  of  mingled  dignity  and  elegance  to  his  form.  His  hair  was 
light,  almost  flaxen,  his  eye  gray,  and  his  countenance  mild,  but  with 
an  expression  of  firmness.  In  his  personal  character,  he  was  marked 
with  gentleness  and  dignity.  His  private  life  was  most  blameless.  Ho 
died  in  1825. 


498  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

force  disheartened  them,  a  panic  ensued,  and  under 
cover  of  a  storm,  they  hastily  retreated,  leaving  be 
hind  them  their  sick  and  wounded,  and  a  part  of 
their  baggage  and  stores.  Their  whole  loss  was  esti 
mated  at  no  less  than  two  thousand  five  hundred 
men !  This  double  victory — Sept.  11, 1814 — was  in 
deed  some  compensation  for  the  disgrace  inflicted 
upon  us  a  few  weeks  before  at  Washington. 

The  clouds  of  despondency,  however,  still  lowered 
over  our  country,  in  its  length  and  breadth.  It  is  now 
known  that  the  Administration  was  deeply  alarmed 
at  the  perilous  condition  into  which  it  had  brought 
the  country.  The  humbled  and  dismayed  President, 
in  his  message  to  Congress  in  September,*  evidently 
thinking  no  more  of  conquest,  was  solely  occupied 
with  the  means  of  self-preservation.  But  however 
painful  the  condition  of  other  parts  of  the  United 
States,  New  England,  beyond  all  question,  was  ex 
posed  to  peculiar  and  trying  difficulties.  Her  prep 
aration  for  the  war  had  been  a  series  of  destructive 
acts  on  the  part  of  the  government,  which  had  spread 
general  poverty  throughout  her  entire  territories. 
Commerce,  which  was  then  her  life,  had  nearly  per 
ished  under  embargoes  and  non -intercourse  acts,  to 

*  "  It  is  not  to  be  disguised,"  said  he,  "  that  the  pituatiou  of  our 
country  calls  for  its  greatest  efforts.  Our  enemy  is  powerful  in  men 
and  money,  on  the  land  and  on  the  water.  Availing  himself  of  fortu 
itous  advantages  (the  triumph  over  Napoleon),  ho  is  aiming,  with  his 
undivided  force,  u  deadly  blow  at  our  growing  prosperity,  perhaps  at 
our  national  existence."  This  is  from  a  President  who  had  declared 
war,  a  short  time  before,  with  tho  expectation  of  qonquering  Canada ! 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  499 

which  had  now  been  added  three  years  of  war.*  And 
in  this  condition  she  had  been  left  by  the  general 
government  without  defense,  having  a  coast  of  seven 
hundred  miles  exposed  to  the  enemy.  That  ene 
my,  in  the  full  triumph  of  his  arms  over  Napoleon, 
was  gathering  his  forces  along  the  northern  frontier, 
and  spreading  his  navies  over  our  waters,  and  in 
the  very  sight  of  our  seaports.  Already  portions  of 
our  territory  were  in  his  possession,  and  our  towns 
and  villages  were  not  only  exposed,  but  some  of  them 
had  been  actually  subjected,  to  ravage  and  plunder. 

There  was  evidently  no  hope  but  in  the  people 
themselves.  The  general  government  had  abandoned 
them  :  it  is  historical,  and  beyond  dispute,  that  while 
the  policy  of  the  Administration  allowed  and  encour- 

*  It  is  startling  to  look  back  at  the  financial  records  of  the  country  at 
this  time :  the  destructive  effects  of  the  embargo  are  abundantly  at 
tested  by  documentary  evidence.  The  exports  of  the  United  States  in 
1807 — that  is,  before  the  embargo — were  $108,343,558;  in  1808,  under 
the  embargo,  they  were  $8,417,000 — a  diminution  of  a  hundred  millions 
in  a  single  year  !  The  whole  loss  to  the  United  States  in  the  destruc 
tion  of  commerce,  alone — during  the  seven  years  of  embargo,  non- 
intercourse,  non-importation,  and  war— all  forming  one  system,  under 
Jefferson  and  Madison  democracy,  would  show  a  fearful  sum — amount 
ing  to  hundreds  of  millions.  To  this  is  to  be  added  the  war  expenses, 
the  depreciation  of  property,  the  wide-spread  devastation  of  productive 
enterprise,  &c.,  &c.  Let  it  be  understood  that  New  England,  from 
her  position,  took  more  than  her  relative  share  of  this  burden ;  let  it 
also  be  understood  that  she  believed  all  these  measures  to  have  had 
a  sinister  origin  ;  let  it,  furthermore,  be  held  in  view,  that  events,  thus 
far,  had  fulfilled  her  predictions  as  to  the  destructive  tendency  of  this 
whole  policy ;  and  then  we  may  be  prepared  to  ask  whether  she  had 
not  a  right  to  call  together  her  Wise  Men,  as  had  been  her  custom  from 
the  foundation  of  the  first  settlements,  to  take  into  consideration  the 
state  of  public  affairs,  and  recommend  the  means  of  averting  the  evils 
which  impended  over  her? 


500  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

aged  the  democratic  governors  of  several  States  to 
call  out  the  local  militia  for  defense,  permitting  thorn 
to  have  their  own  officers  and  paying  the  expenses 
thus  incurred,  a  totally  different  system  was  adopted 
in  respect  to  the  federal  States  of  New  England.  Here 
the  general  government  insisted  upon  the  exclusive 
control  of  military  movements,  and  flatly  refused  pay 
ing  the  militia,  because  they  were  not  placed  under 
the  command  of  United  States  officers.  What  was 
then  to  be  done  ?  This  was  the  anxious  question  in 
city,  village,  and  hamlet,  from  one  end  of  the  country 
to  the  other.  The  people — the  great  body  of  the  peo 
ple — were  agitated  with  a  deep  sense  of  injury,  of' 
suffering,  of  anxiety.  In  this  state  of  things,  a  pro 
ject  was  suggested,  in  the  good  old  Puritan  county 
of  Hampshire,  in  Massachusetts,  which  resulted  in  the 
Hartford  Convention.  It  had  been  the  custom,  from 
time  immemorial — in  days  of  doubt  and  danger — for 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Pilgrim  land  to  call  together 
their  wise  men,  to  seek,  by  counsel  and  co-operation, 
the  path  of  duty  and  deliverance.  The  history  of 
New  England  tells  us  that,  on  almost  every  page. 
Had  they  not  a  right  to  do  so  now  ?  Was  it  not 
natural  for  them  to  take  this  course — to  follow  the 
example  of  their  fathers  ?  Is  it  fair,  is  it  j  ust,  is  it 
reasonable,  to  seek  any  other  motive  than  this,  which 
lies  open  and  plain  upon  the  face  of  things,  with  noth 
ing  to  contradict  it  ? 

T  have  a  few  more  words  to  say  on  that  subject, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  KTC.  501 

but  I  lay  them  aside  for  the  present,  that  I  may  com 
plete  my  chronological  memoranda  of  the  war.  This 
done,  I  will  give  you  my  recollections  of  that  famous 
or  infamous  assembly. 

It  was  now  evident  to  the  whole  country  that  we 
had  changed  positions  with  the  enemy.  At  the 
outset,  the  war  was  aggressive  on  our  part :  we 
had  sought  to  invade  and  conquer  a  portion  of  his 
territory :  in  this  we  had  failed,  and  now  released 
from  his  embarrassments,  he  was  threatening  us  on 
all  sides,  thus  calling  upon  us  for  defense.  It  ap 
pears  that  the  Administration  now  felt  the  absolute 
necessity  of  bringing  the  war  to  a  close.  Great 
Britain  had  made  an  offer  to  treat  for  peace,  and  our 
government  accepted  it,  appointing  J.  Q.  Adams, 
Henry  Clay,  Jonathan  Russell,  Albert  Gallatin,  and 
J.  A.  Bayard,  as  Commissioners  for  that  object.  The 
instructions  at  first  given,  required  them  to  insist  upon 
a  withdrawal  of  the  pretensions  of  Great  Britain  to  the 
right  of  search  and  impressment — the  only  substantial 
object  of  the  war.  After  the  news  of  the  prostration 
of  Napoleon,  other  instructions  were  given,  direct 
ing  that  even  this  should  not  be  insisted  upon.  The 
agents  of  the  two  governments  met  at  Ghent,  in  Bel 
gium,  in  August.  As  we  had  withdrawn  every  ma 
terial  obstruction,  a  treaty  of  peace  was  finally  agreed 
upon  and  signed,  at  Ghent,  Dec.  24,  1814. 

The  news  of  this  event  did  not  reach  the  United 
States  until  the  llth  of  February,  1815 — a  space  of 


502  LK'ITERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

forty-nine  days — for  then  steam  navigation  had  not 
brought  the  Old  and  New  World  within  ten  days' 
sail.  While  the  tidings  of  peace  were  thus  lagging 
across  the  Atlantic,  the  war  still  lowered  over  our 
country.  It  was  soon  apparent  that  the  enemy  med 
itated  a  blow  at  some  portion  of  the  Southern  States. 
At  length,  after  various  movements,  and  some  severe 
encounters  with  our  forces  under  General  Jackson, 
the  British  general,  Packenham,  advanced  against 
the  American  intrenchments,  four  miles  below  New 
Orleans,  with  a  force  of  twelve  thousand  men.  Their 
design  evidently  was  to  capture  New  Orleans.  Be 
hind  their  breastworks  of  bales  of  cotton,  six  thou 
sand  Americans,  mostly  militia,  awaited  the  attack. 
It  came,  but  our  well-aimed  cannon  and  deadly 
rifles  mowed  down  the  enemy  like  a  scythe.  The 
plain  was  speedily  covered  with  the  dead  and  the 
dying.  General  Packenham  was  killed,  and  his 
successor,  Gibbs,  was  mortally  wounded.  The  Brit 
ish  troops — most  of  them  veterans,  and  conquerors 
in  many  a  bloody  field — were  panic-stricken,  and 
fled.  The  loss  on  their  side  was  seven  hundred  kill 
ed  and  one  thousand  wounded  :  the  loss  on  ours  was 
seven  killed  and  six  wounded !  The  Saxon  had  met 
the  Saxon :  the  American  rifle  had  triumphed  ovei 
the  British  bayonet.  It  was  on  our  part  a  glorious 
victory ;  but  let  it  be  remembered,  that  it  was  in 
defense  of  our  territories — our  homes  and  firesides. 
The  moral  of  the  war  is  well  told  in  its  opening  and 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  503 

closing  scenes  :  in  attempting  conquest,  our  flag  was 
humbled  at  Detroit ;  in  self-defense,  it  became  im 
mortal  at  New  Orleans ! 

This  great  victory  on  the  part  of  General  Jackson 
— which  afterward  carried  him  into  the  presidential 
chair — took  place  on  the  8th  of  January,  1815 — 
fifteen  days  after  the  signing  of  the  treaty  of  peace. 
The  rumor  of  this  triumph  had  reached  Washington, 
and  began  to  raise  the  drooping  spirits  of  the  coun 
try;  but  a  still  more  cheering  event  was  at  hand. 
As  I  have  already  stated,  the  news  of  the  treaty  of 
peace  arrived  in  New  York  on  the  llth  of  February, 
1815.  It  was  about  eight  o'clock  on  Saturday  even 
ing,  that  the  tidings  circulated  through  the  city.  I 
have  told  you  that  I  was  there.  In  half  an  hour 
after  the  news  reached  the  wharf,  Broadway  was  one 
living  sea  of  shouting,  rejoicing  people.  "  Peace  ! 
peace  !  peace !"  was  the  deep,  harmonious,  universal 
anthem.  The  whole  spectacle  was  enlivened  by  a  sud 
den  inspiration.  Somebody  came  with  a  torch :  the 
bright  idea  passed  into  a  thousand  brains.  In  a  few 
minutes,  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  people 
were  marching  about  with  candles,  lamps,  torches — 
making  the  jubilant  street  appear  like  a  gay  and 
gorgeous  procession.  The  whole  night  Broadway 
sang  its  song  of  peace.  "We  were  all  democrats, 
all  federalists !  Old  enemies  rushed  into  each  other's 
arms :  every  house  was  in  a  revel :  every  heart  seemed 
melted  by  a  joy  which  banished  all  evil  thought 


504:  LETTERS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

and  feeling.  Nobody  asked,  that  happy  night,  what 
were  the  terms  of  the  treaty :  we  had  got  peace — that 
was  enough  !  I  moved  about  for  hours  in  the  ebbing 
and  flowing  tide  of  people,  not  being  aware  that  I 
had  opened  my  lips.  The  next  morning  I  found  that 
I  was  hoarse  from  having  joined  in  the  exulting  cry 
of  peace,  peace! 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  all  the  churches  sent  up 
hymns  of  thanksgiving  for  the  joyous  tidings.  I  set 
out  in  the  stage-coach  on  Monday  morning  for  Con 
necticut.  All  along  the  road,  the  people  saluted  us 
with  swinging  of  hats  and  cries  of  rejoicing.  At 
one  place,  in  rather  a  lonesome  part  of  the  road,  a 
schoolmaster  came  out  with  the  whole  school  at  his 
heels  to  ask  us  if  the  news  was  true.  We  told  him 
it  was :  whereupon  he  tied  his  bandanna  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  a  broom,  swung  it  aloft,  and  the 
whole  school  hosannaed — "  Peace  !  peace !"  At  all 
our  stopping-places,  the  people  were  gathered  to  re 
joice  in  the  good  tidings.  At  one  little  tavern,  I  look 
ed  into  a  room,  by  chance,  the  door  being  open,  and 
there  I  saw  the  good  wife,  with  a  chubby  boy  in  her 
lap — both  in  a  perfect  gale  of  merriment — the  child 
crying  out,  "  Peath !  peath  !"  Oh,  ye  makers  of  war, 
reflect  upon  this  heartfelt  verdict  of  the  people  in 
behalf  of  peace  I 

We  arrived  at  New  Haven  in  the  evening,  and  found 
it  illuminated :  the  next  day  I  reached  Hartford,  and 
there  was  a  grand  illumination  there.  The  news 


"PEACE!"  "PEACE!"     Vol.  1,  p.  504. 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  ^(>5 

spread  over  the  country,  carrying  with  it  a  wave  of 
shouts  and  rejoicings.  Boston  became  clamorous 
with  pealing  bells ;  the  schools  had  a  jubilee ;  the 
blockaded  shipping,  rotting  at  the  dilapidated  wharves, 
got  out  their  dusty  buntings,  and  these — ragged  and 
forlorn — now  flapped  merrily  in  the  breeze.  At  night 
the  city  flamed  far  and  wide  —  from  Beacon-street 
down  the  bay,  telling  the  glorious  tale  even  unto 
Cape  Cod.  So  spread  the  news  over  the  country, 
everywhere  carrying  joy  to  every  heart — with,  per 
haps,  a  single  exception.  At  Washington,  the  authors 
of  the  war  peeped  into  the  dispatches,  and  found  that 
the  treaty  had  no  stipulations  against  Orders  in 
Council,  Paper  Blockades,  or  Impressments!  All 
that  could  be  maintained  was,  that  we  had  made 
war,  charging  the  enemy  with  very  gross  enormities, 
and  we  had  made  peace,  saying  not  one  word  about 
them !  Madison  and  his  party  had  in  fact  swal 
lowed  the  declaration  of  war  whole,  and  it  naturally 
caused  some  uneasy  qualms  in  the  regions  of  diges 
tion.  "  Let  us,  however,"  said  they,  "  put  a  good 
face  upon  it :  we  can  hide  our  shame  for  the  mo 
ment  in  the  smoke  of  Jackson's  victory ;  as  to  the 
rest,  why  we  can  brag  the  country  into  a  belief  that 
it  has  been  a  glorious  war !"  Madison  set  the  exam 
ple  in  a  boasting  message,  and  his  party  organs  took 
up  the  tune,  and  have  played  it  bravely  till  the  pres 
ent  day. 

But  what  saith  history — not  partisan  history,  not 

VOL.  1.-—22 


506  LETTKRS BIOGRAPHICAL, 

history  addressed  to  Buncombe,  not  history  written 
in  subservient  demagogism  to  national  vanity — but 
history,  speaking  the  truth  and  fearing  not  ?  What 
saith  the  record  ?*  Assuredly  this,  that  the  war  had 
its  origin  in  partisan  interests,  and  was  carried  on  in 
a  similar  spirit ;  that  it  was  the  war  of  the  Adminis 
tration,  and  not  of  the  nation,  and  so  far  was  disastrous 
and  disgraceful.  It  was  begun  without  preparation,  it 
was  carried  on  in  weakness  ;  it  was  characterized  by 
failure,  it  was  terminated  by  a  treaty  which  left  us 
where  we  began — save  only  that  a  hundred  millions 
of  dollars  and  thirty  thousand  lives  had  been  expend- 


*  I  commend  to  the  reader  the  following  observations  from  a  calm 
and  sober  writer : 

"  An  inquiry  here  naturally  suggests  itself— as,  after  the  revocation 
of  the  British  Orders  in  Council,  Impressment  was  the  only  grievance 
to  be  redressed  by  war  ;  and  as  that  question  was  subsequently  waived 
by  our  government  in  the  negotiation,  what  was  gained  by  the  war  ?  It 
has  been  considered  as  no  small  point  gained,  that  ample  evidence  hns 
been  given  to  Great  Britain  of  our  capacity  successfully  to  resist  her 
power,  especially  upon  the  ocean,  where  she  had  long  claimed  a  vast 
superiority  ;  and  that  a  guarantee  had  thus  been  furnished  against  fu 
ture  aggression.  It  is  questionable,  however,  if  the  result  could  have 
been  known,  or  if  the  unbiased  counsels  of  our  older  statesmen  had  pre 
vailed,  whether  war  would  have  been  declared.  Jefferson,  Madison,  Gal- 
latin,  Macon,  and  others,  ^cere  of  a  pacific  disposition.  The  leading  men 
of  the  administration  were  known  to  have  given  a  reluctant  sanction  to 
the  war  project ;  but  they  found  themselves  under  a  kind  of  necessity  to 
yield  to  the  impulsive  young  politicians — Calhoun,  Clay,  and  a  number 
of  others — who,  it  wan  suspected,  were  striving  t-o  turn  the  popular  preju 
dices  against  Great  Britain  to  their  own  political  advantage.  \V  hether 
the  nation  has  ever  obtained  an  equivalent  for  the  thirty  thousand  lives, 
and  the  hundred  millions  of  money  expended ;  for  the  loss  of  prop 
erty  and  of  several  years  of  prosperous  commerce  ;  for  the  depravation  of 
the  public  morals,  and  the  train  of  other  evils  inseparable  from  a  state 
of  war,  is  a  question  which  at  least  admits  of  a  reasonable  doubt."— 
Young's  American  Statesman, 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  507 

ed  iii  the  inglorious  struggle.  All  the  lights  of  this 
period  belong  to  the  people  or  to  the  opposition — all 
the  shadows  to  the  war-makers.  Hull's  surrender, 
Dearborn's  blunders,  Wilkinson's  abortions,  were  the 
work  of  the  Administration,  attempting  the  conquest 
of  Canada :  the  desecration  of  Washington  is  wholly 
chargeable  to  the  personal  weakness  and  pusillanim 
ity  of  the  President  and  his  cabinet.  The  glory  of 
the  navy  belongs  to  the  federalists,  who  were  its  fa 
thers — the  democrats  being  its  open  and  avowed 
enemies  and  opposers :  the  victories  of  Plattsburg, 
Baltimore,  and  New  Orleans,  belong  not  to  the  spirit 
of  Madison,  who  would  conquer  Canada,  but  to  that 
spirit  which  is  indigenous  to  the  country,  to  the  people 
•—democrats  and  federalists — everywhere — who  will 
fight  and  conquer  in  defense  of  our  soil,  even  though 
the  war  be  brought  upon  us  by  a  feeble  and  unpatri 
otic  government. 

Let  us  be  frank,  and  confess  the  truth :  the  war,  in 
the  aspects  in  which  history  thus  presents  it,  was  dis 
graceful  to  the  authors  of  it :  it  was,  in  many  respects, 
disastrous  to  the  country  ;  and  yet  it  has  left  us  some 
wholesome  lessons.  It  has  shown  the  danger  and 
folly  of  plunging  a  great  country  into  a  national  con 
flict,  for  narrow  and  selfish  purposes,  because — under 
such  circumstances — the  people  will  be  divided,  and 
it  will  be  a  partisan  and  not  a  patriotic  war ;  it  has 
put  on  record  another  instance  in  which  war  has  been 
declared  in  boasting,  und  ended  precisely  where  it  be- 


508  LETTKRS—  BIOGRAPHICAL, 

gan,  after  years  of  violence,  sorrow,  and  bloodshed ; 
it  has  shown  our  weakness  in  a  war  of  conquest,  and 
our  strength  in  a  war  of  defense ;  it  has  shown  us 
that  the  sea  is  the  true  theater  upon  which  we  should 
ever  be  prepared  to  attack  and  repel  every  European 
enemy.  It  has  shown  us  that  without  preparation, 
and  with  divided  counsels,  we  are  weak,  but  that  with 
union  of  heart  and  proper  precautions,  we  need  not 
fear  any  combination  the  world  can  bring  against 
us.  It  has  shown,  also — in  connection  with  subse 
quent  events — the  superiority  of  peace  to  war,  even 
in  obtaining  the  ends  of  justice,  for  let  it  be  remem 
bered,  that  Daniel  "Webster  extorted  from  Great  Brit 
ain  by  the  force  of  argument,  that  which  the  sword 
could  not  achieve.  His  letter  to  Lord  Ashburton* 
silenced,  and  doubtless  forever,  the  British  preten 
sions  to  the  "  right  of  search" — thus  demonstrating 
the  superiority  of  an  old  federal  quill,  to  all  the  gun 
powder  that  mere  Madison  democracy  could  com 
mand  !  The  pen  is  master  of  the  sword. 

And  now,  my  dear  C  . . . .,  I  ask  you  in  all  serious- 


*  This  remarkable  letter — dated  Washington,  August  8,  1842 — will 
be  found  in  Mr.  Webster's  Works,  vol.  vi.  p.  818.  Mr.  Everett  says, 
in  his  memoir  of  Mr.  Webster,  "The  reply  of  Lord  Ashburton  must 
be  considered  as  acquiescence  on  the  part  of  his  government ;"  that  is, 
acquiescence  in  the  American  doctrine  of  maritime  rights — that  the  flag 
of  a  country  renders  the  decks  of  its  ships  inviolable  against  visit  or 
search.  The  London  Times,  Standard,  &c.,  about  this  period, -expressed 
the  opinion  that  this  subject  was  finally  put  to  rest  by  Mr.  Webster's 
letter.  It  is  understood  that  Lord  Aberdeen  said  to  Mr.  Everett,  that 
Its  argument  was  unanswerable :  it  has  been  effectively  answered,  how 
ever,  by  quietly  yielding  to  its  doctrines. 


HISTORICAL,    ANECDOTICAL,    ETC.  509 

ness — is  it  not  time  for  that  arrogance  to  cease — which 
claims  for  democracy  all  the  patriotism,  all  the  sue 
cess,  all  the  glory  of  the  war  of  1812,  and  charges  upon 
federalism  a  uniform  course  of  secret  or  open  treason, 
with  the  responsibility  of  all  the  failures,  disasters, 
and  disgraces  which  attended  the  conflict? 

Let  me  observe,  by  the  way,  that  I  do  not  condemn 
the  feelings  of  the  great  body  of  the  democrats,  in 
their  support  of  the  war.  Believing  it  to  be  just  and 
proper,  their  ardor,  their  patriotism,  their  perseve 
rance  in  the  maintenance  of  the  struggle,  "were  hon 
orable  to  them.  I  do  full  homage  to  their  spirit,  to 
their  patriotism.  I  can  overlook  that  partisan  bigotry 
which  burned  in  their  bosoms  at  the  time,  and  even 
embittered  the  intercourse  of  society.  It  was  natural 
for  them  to  feel  indignant  at  the  conduct  of  those  who 
— holding  opposite  opinions — pursued  an  opposite 
course,  in  so  serious  a  question  as  that  of  war  with  a 
foreign  enemy.  Nor  was  their  example,  in  this  re 
spect,  very  different  from  that  of  the  federalists.  Both 
parties  were  wrought  into  a  kind  of  frenzy  by  the 
irritation  of  mutual  opposition  and  mutual  hostility. 

While  doing  this  justice  to  the  democracy,  I  claim 
the  same  candor  for  the  federalists.  They  acted  ac 
cording  to  their  convictions,  as  I  have  before  said, 
and  this  was  not  only  their  right  but  their  duty.  The 
doctrine  of  the  war  partisans,  holding  legal,  constitu 
tional  opposition  to  an  administration  which  has  de 
clared  war,  to  be  treason,  is  alike  dangerous  and 


510  LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, 

despotic.  A  war  may  be  declared  merely  to  serve  a 
party:  the  administration  may  be  base,  incompetent, 
treacherous ;  yet,  if  this  doctrine  be  true,  the  people 
— having  lost  the  greatest  of  all  rights — the  right  to 
think,  speak,  and  act,  according  to  their  convictions 
— are  bound  to  give  a  blind  and  slavish  support  to 
those  who,  either  by  incompetence  or  corruption,  are 
leading  the  country  to  ruin. 

Let  me  invite  your  attention  to  the  principles  of 
New  England — the  federalists  of  New  England — as 
stated  by  Daniel  Webster,  in  a  Fourth  of  July  ora 
tion,  at  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  a  few  days 
after  the  declaration  of  war : 

"  With  respect  to  the  war  in  which  we  are  now  involved,  the 
course  which  our  principles  require  us  to  pursue  can  not  be 
doubtful.  It  is  now  the  law  of  the  land,  and  as  such  we  are 
bound  to  regard  it.  Resistance  and  insurrection  form  no  part 
of  our  creed.  The  disciples  of  Washington  are  neither  tyrants 
in  power,  nor  rebels  out.  If  we  are  taxed  to  carry  on  this  war, 
we  shall  disregard  certain  distinguished  examples,*  and  shall  pay. 

*  This  was  an  allusion  to  the  Whisky  Rebellion  in  Western  Penn 
sylvania,  in  1794,  which  Albert  Gallatin  —  one  of  Madison's  cabinet, 
and  a  prominent  supporter  of  the  war — had  done  much  to  stimulate. 
The  inhabitants  of  that  quarter  were  chiefly  foreigners.  The  law 
which  offended  them  was  passed  by  Congress  in  1791,  and  laid  a  tax 
on  distilled  spirits — one  of  their  chief  products  at  that  time.  A  con 
siderable  army  was  assembled  by  the  malcontents,  and  the  United 
States  revenue  officers  were  resisted,  whipped,  tarred  and  feathered. 
The  insurrection  was  finally  put  down  by  a  proclamation  issued  by  the 
President  (Washington),  and  the  marching  toward  the  scene  of  action 
of  a  respectable  body  of  militia,  under  Gov.  Lee,  of  Maryland. 

This  resistance,  however,  was  in  some  degree  pardonable,  consider 
ing  the  general  ignorance  and  character  of  those  concerned  in  it,  and 
considering,  also,  that  the  general  government  had  just  gone  into  op- 


HISTORICAL.   ANECDOTIC  A  I.,  ETC.  511 

If  our  personal  services  are  required,  we  shall  yield  them  to  the 
precise  extent  of  our  constitutional  liability.  At  the  same  time 
the  world  may  be  assured  that  AVC  know  our  rights  and  shall 
exercise  them.  We  shall  express  our  opinions  on  this  as  on 
every  measure  of  government,  I  trust  without  passion,  I  am  cer 
tain  without  fear.  We  have  yet  to  hear  that  the  extravagant 
progress  of  pernicious  measures  abrogates  the  duty  of  opposition, 
or  that  the  interest  of  our  native  land  is  to  be  abandoned  by  us 
in  the  hour  of  the  thickest  danger  and  most  necessity.  By  the 
exercise  of  our  constitutional  right  of  suffrage — by  the  peaceful 
remedy  of  election — we  shall  seek  to  restore  wisdom  to  our  coun 
cils,  and  peace  to  our  country."* 

That  was  the  federal  doctrine,  and  that  the  federal 
practice.     Now  I  put  it  to  your  conscience — is  not 

eration,  and  called  for  unaccustomed  sacrifices  on  the  part  of  the  peo 
ple.  It  was  otherwise  in  the  case  of  South  Carolina,  when,  in  the  au 
tumn  of  1832,  she  made  a  general  movement  to  resist  the  tariff  laws  of 
Congress,  on  the  ground  that  they  were  unconstitutional.  This  course  had 
been  recommended  by  a  convention  and  various  public  meetings,  and 
the  legislature  of  the  State,  meeting  soon  after,  sanctioned  these  views. 
The  tariff  acts  were  declared  null  and  void,  and  in  order  to  resist  their 
execution,  active  measures  were  adopted  to  arm  the  citizens.  The  city 
of  Charleston  became  at  once  a  great  military  depot,  and  the  whole  State 
was  bristling  with  bayonets.  Col.  Hayne,  who,  a  short  time  before,  in 
the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  had  arraigned  the  members  of  the  Hart 
ford  Convention  as  traitors,  now  became  governor  of  the  State,  for  the 
express  purpose  of  directing  this  formidable  treason.  Mr.  Calhoun 
resigned  the  vice-presidency,  and  accepted  a  seat  in  the  Senate,  for  the 
purpose  of  there  vindicating  the  conduct  of  his  State.  This  fearful 
blow,  aimed  directly  at  the  Constitution  and  the  Union,  was  averted  by 
what  is  called  the  Compromise  of  Mr.  Clay — which,  in  point  of  fact,  con 
sisted  in  forcing  the  general  government  to  yield  to  a  menace  of  rebel 
lion.  The  movement  was  so  far  successful,  that  it  cherished  the  seeds 
of  Nullification,  which  had  been  widely  sown  by  Jefferson  and  his  as 
sociates  in  the  Southern  States ;  and  at  the  present  day,  its  doctrines 
may  be  considered  as  held  by  a  majority  of  the  democratic  party  there. 
Compare  all  this  with  the  conduct  of  New  England  federalism  ! 

*  See  the  New  York  Evening  Post  for  July  21,  1812— where  this  is 
held  to  be  sound  federal  doctrine. 


512  LKTTKRS HIOGKAPHICAI-, 

this  more  manly,  more  American,  more  in  the  spirit 
of  true  liberty,  than  the  slavish  doctrine  which  holds 
every  man  to  be  a  traitor  who  does  not  support  the 
administration — good  or  bad,  wise  or  unwise — even 
against  his  honest  convictions?* 

If,  then,  the  people  of  New  England  had  a  right  to 
follow  their  convictions, what  was  their  actual  conduct? 
Look  closely  into  the  history  of  the  times — peruse  the 
acts  of  legislatures,  the  doings  of  authorized  public 
assemblies — and  you  will  find  a  uniform,  unswerving 
loyalty  to  the  Constitution,  the  country,  and  the  laws. 
The  federalists  of  New  England  did  not — like  Albert 
Gal  latin  and  other  democrats,  afterward  supporters  of 
the  war,  and  believers  in  the  doctrine  that  opposition 
is  treason — rise  in  rebellion,  and  seek  to  overthrow  the 
government.  They  did  not — like  Calhoun,  another 
democrat,  and  one  of  the  chief  authors  of  the  war,  as 
well  as  one  of  the  promoters  of  this  gag-law  of  con 
science — array  the  States  in  arms,  and  cry  out  for  a 
dissolution  of  the  Union  !  They  did  not — as  is  now 
the  fashion,  even  with  certain  democrats  in  full  com 
munion  with  the  party — claim  that  the  Union  shall  be 

*  If  we  admit  this  doctrine,  that  opposition  to  an  administration  in 
time  of  war  is  treason,  then  Chatham,  who  advocated  the  cause  of 
America  in  the  British  Parliament,  during  the  Revolution,  was  a  trai 
tor  ;  Lamartine,  Cavaignac,  and  Victor  Hugo,  who  opposed  Louis  Napo 
leon's  war  for  the  suppression  of  the  Roman  Republic,  were  traitors ; 
all  the  friends  of  liberty,  who,  from  time  immemorial,  have  opposed 
the  wars  of  their  respective  governments  for  the  perpetuation  of  tyran 
ny,  are  to  be  inscribed  in  the  list  of  traitors.  Certainly  democracy  errs  in 
employing  despotism  and  injustice,  under  the  pretense  of  propagating 
liberty.  There  is  no  surer  way  to  make  liberty  itself  feared  and  hated 


HISTORICAL,  ANECDOTICAL,  ETC.  513 

torn  asunder,  whenever  the  administration  of  the  gov 
ernment  does  not  altogether  please  them.  No  :  their 
standard  of  duty  was  higher  than  that — resistance  and 
insurrection  formed  no  part  of  their  creed  or  their 
conduct :  they  were  taxed,  and  they  paid ;  their  per 
sonal  services  were  required,  and  they  rendered  them 
to  the  extent  of  their  constitutional  liability  ;  they 
defended  the  country,  and  even  the  property  of  the 
United  States,  when  the  general  government  was 
powerless  to  protect  them ;  they  stood  by  the  Con 
stitution,  as  a  thing  too  sacred  to  be  violated,  even 
under  the  extremest  oppression  of  what  they  deemed 
an  unwise  and  unpatriotic  government ! 

Who,  then,  has  a  right  to  accuse  them  of  treason  ? 
Not  the  Nullifier,  nor  the  Disunionist,  nor  the  Seces 
sionist —  all  clamorous  for  the  destruction  of  the 
Union,  whenever,  in  their  opinion,  the  government 
is  not  properly  administered  ;  surely  no  member  of  a 
party,  which  holds  in  its  bosom,  and  cherishes  as  in 
full  fellowship,  individuals  who  are  chiefly  distin 
guished  for  bearing  these  names,  and  for  asserting 
arid  propagating  these  doctrines !  Strange  is  it — 
passing  strange — that  from  the  beginning — in  peace 
or  war — New  England  Federalism  should  have  fur 
nished  a  steady  example  of  loyalty  to  the  Constitu 
tion,  and  that — springing  from  her  bosom,  and  ex 
pressive  of  her  spirit — she  should  have  given  to  this 
country  the  acknowledged  Champion  of  the  Consti 
tution  and  the  Union;  that  at  the  same  time,  South- 
oo* 


514        LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,    HISTORICAL,    ETC. 

ern  Democracy  should  have  been  the  breeder  of  se~ 
cession  and  disunion ;  that  it  should  have  furnished 
to  the  country  the  Arch  Nullifier  himself;  and  yet 
that  this  same  Democracy  presumes  to  point  its  finger 
at  New  England,  and  cry — "  Treason,  treason  to  the 
Union!"  Certainly  a  democrat  may  steal  a  horse, 
but  a  federalist  may  not  look  over  a  hedge  ! 

Let  us,  my  dear  C ,  be  just — just  in  the  sight 

of  God  and  man  ;  let  us  render  homage  to  the  patri 
otism  of  the  great  body  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States — democrats  and  federalists — during  the  war  of 
1812-14.  We  may  sincerely  admire  that  cheerful, 
gallant,  devoted  spirit,  which  sustained  the  struggle 
without  inquiring  as  to  its  justice  or  its  prudence  ; 
at  the  same  time,  we  are  bound  equally  to  respect 
that  calmness  and  equanimity  with  which  a  people, 
deeply  conscious  of  injury  and  injustice,  observed 
the  laws,  and,  within  their  limits,  defied  alike  the 
aggressions  of  a  partisan  government  and  a  foreign 
enemy.  Doing  this  justice  to  the  people,  on  both 
sides  and  of  both  parties,  let  history  hold  to  a  stern 
reckoning  the  selfishness  of  those  men  who  declared 
or  promoted  the  war,  merely  or  mainly  to  subserve 
the  interests  of  party  ' 


APPENDIX. 


NOTE  I. 
Town  of  Ridgefield. 

THIS  town  lies  about  sixty  miles  northeast  of  New  York,  and  forty 
northwest  of  New  Haven.  There  is,  as  I  have  elsewhere  stated,  in 
the  Library  of  the  Atheneura  at  Hartford,  Conn.,  a  manuscript  work, 
entitled  "  A  Statistical  Account  of  Ridgelield,  in  the  county  of  Fair 
field,  drawn  up  by  Rev.  Samuel  Goodrich,  from  minutes  furnished 
by  a  number  of  his  parishioners,  A.  D.  1800."  From  this  account  I 
give  the  following  extracts: 

"  Ridgefield  was  located  to  twenty-nine  of  the  inhabitants  of  tho 
towny  of  Mil  ford  and  Norwich,  by  the  General  Assembly  of  the  State 
of  Connecticut,  on  the  13th  of  May,  1708.  Various  patents  were  grant 
ed,  and  the  soil  rights  of  these  were  purchased  of  the  Indians  at  differ 
ent  times.  The  first  was  made  of  Catoonali,  the  sachem,  and  others,  the 
condition  being  one  hundred  pounds.  The  boundaries  of  the  town, 
fixed  about  the  year  1733,  left  it  of  an  oblong  shape,  about  fifteen  miles 
long  and  three  to  five  miles  wide :  including  the  two  parishes  ot'Ridge- 
bnry  and  Ridtrefield  proper. 

"  There  is  the  appearance  of  several  Indian  graves  at  a  place  called 
Norron's  Ridge ;  and  one  elevation  retains  its  Indian  name  of  Arproono 
—high  or  lofty.  Several  ponds  also  retain  their  Indian  designations,  as 
Urnpewauge,  Mammemusqtiah,  Nisopach,&c.  There  is  but  one  Indian 
man  in  the  town.  One  died  here  t»vo  years  ago,  aged  about  96.  In 
1799,  there  were  ten  common  schools  and  four  hundred  and  thirty- three 
scholars.  There  are  three  foreigners — all  paupers:  Jagger,  an  English 
man,  ninety-five  years  old,  who  served  under  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
in  the  battle  of  Cullodeu,  1746,  and  was  in  Flanders,  in  the  same  regi 
ment,  previous  to  this  battle. 

"  The  general  form  of  the  land  is  in  gently  swelling  ridges,  extend 
ing  from  north  to  south.  High  Ridge,  in  the  central  part,  called  Can- 
dito  by  the  Indians,  is  very  elevated  ;  from  this  the  mountains  west  of 


510  A  PPENDIX   -NOTES. 

the  Hudson,  and  West  Rock,  near  New  Haven — a  view  eighty  miles  i-n 
diameter — are  to  be  seen  in  fair  weather;  Long  Island  Sound  also, 
from  fifty  to  sixty  miles,  is  visible.  The  waters  flowing  from  this  hill, 
flow  some  southeasterly  into  the  Sound,  and  some  southwesterly  into 
the  Hudson,  by  the  rivers  Titicus  and  Croton.  The  latter,  in  fact,  has 
its  source  here. 

"The  soil  is  generally  fertile,  though  many  parts  are  stony;  the  cli 
mate,  owing  to  the  elevation  of  the  place,  is  somewhat  severe,  but  it 
is  salubrious.  Formerly  there  were  bear,  deer,  and  wolves,  but  these 
have  disappeared.  Eacoons,  various  kinds  of  squirrels,  rabbits,  &c., 
are  plentiful,  as  also  quails,  partridges,  &c.  The  flocks  of  wild-pigeons, 
formerly  very  abundant,  now  make  their  migrations  more  to  the  west 
than  formerly." 

Partly  from  this  document,  and  partly  from  notes  furnished  me  by 
Mr.  A.  Ressequie,  of  Ridgefield,  I  take  the  following  memoranda : 

Ministers  of  the  First  Congregational  Church  in  Ridgefield. 

Rev.  Thomas  Hawley,  of  2s  orthampton,  the  first  minister,  and  one 
of  the  first  settler?,  installed  in  1714,  and  died  1739. 
Rev.  Jonathan  Ingersoll,  installed  1740,  died  1778. 
Rev.  Samuel  Goodrich,  ordained  1786,  dismissed  1811, 
Rev.  S.  M.  Phelps,  "         1817,         "          1829. 

Rev.  C.  G.  Silleck,  "         1831,         M         1837. 

Rev.  Joseph  Fuller,  "         1838,         "          1842. 

llev.  James   A.  Hawley,         "         ,         "         . 

Rev.  Clinton  Clark,  " ,  the  present  pastor 

Some  of  the  Inhabitants  of  Ridgefield,  noticed  in  the  preceding 
pages. 

REV.  JONATHAN  INGERSOLL  was  a  native  of  Milford,  graduated  at 
Yale  College  in  1736,  and  died  1778,  while  in  the  ministry  at  Ridge 
field.  He  joined  the  colonial  troops  as  chaplain,  on  Lake  Champlain, 
in  1758 ;  he  was  much  respected  in  the  army,  and  exerted  an  ex 
cellent  influence  on  the  soldiers.  He  left  behind  him  a  name  hon 
ored  for  purity,  learning,  eloquence,  and  devotion  to  his  duty,  in  the 
village  where  the  greater  part  of  his  life  was  spent.  From  an  elec 
tion  sermon,  which  I  find  in  the  Library  of  the  Hartford  Atheneum, 
it  would  appear  that  he  was  master  of  a  very  felicitous  style  of 
writing.* 


*  The  following  letter,  addressed  to  liis  brother,  noted  in  the  history  of  Connecti 
cut  lor  accepting  thit  oBiov  of  -lamp-master  under  the  olmoxions  stamp-act  of  17G4, 


APPENDIX,    NOTES.  517 

Rev.  Jonathan  Ingersoll  died  Oct..  2,  1778,  in  the  65th  year  of  his 
age.  Dorcas  Moss,  his  wife,  died  Sept.  29, 1811,  in  the  86th  year  of 
her  age.  They  had  ten  children,  as  follows : 

Sarah,  born  Oct.  28,  1741 — married Lee. 

Dorcas,  born  Oct.  15,  1743 — married Andrews. 

Jonathan,  born  April  16,  1747 — married  Miss  Isaacs. 

Mary,  born  Dec.  20,  1748 — married Hooker. 

Abigail,  born  May  7,  1751 — married  Col.  D.  Olmstead. 

Joseph,  born  Aug.  11,  1753 — deaf  and  dumb — not  married. 

Hannah,  born  April  9,  1756 — married Raymond. 

Esther,  born  Aug.  10,  1760 — married  Lieut.  Olmstead. 

Moss,    born  June  9,  1763 — deaf  and  dumb — married  Miss  Smith. 

Anne,  born  April  5, 1765 — married  Gen.  Joshua  King,  died  1838. 

GEN.  JOSHUA  KING  was  born  at  Braintree,  Colony  of  Massachusetts 
Bay,  24th  of  November,  1758.  He  entered  the  army  of  the  Revo 
lution,  a  mere  boy,  at  the  commencement  of  hostilities  between  the 
colonies  and  the  mother  country.  On  the  formation  of  Sheldon's 


and  furnished  to  me  by  Hon.  E.  I  Ingersoll,  of  New  Haven,  will  be  read  with 
interest: 

"  EIDOKFIELD,  June  9th,  A.  D.  1758. 

"DEAR  BROTHER: — Yours  from  Hartford,  the  1st  instant,  caine  safe  to  hund  by 
Mr.  Olmstead,  for  which  I  am  heartily  obliged  to  you.  I  remarked  in  particular 
your  observing  something  of  heaviness  in  my  countenance  at  parting  with  you  a*. 
New  Haven — upon  which  I  would  observe  that  this  bidding  farewell  is  a  difficul , 
thing,  and  tends  greatly  to  move  the  passions  This  sin  being  a  natural  infirmity, 
you  will  easily  overlook.  Blessed  be  God.  I  am  neither  disheartened  nor  elevated, 
but  enjoy  a  good  temper  of  mind,  and  can,  I  think,  put  my  life  in  the  hands  of  G<>d 
and  go  forth  freely  and  cheerfully,  in  so  important  though  dangerous  an  enterprise. 
I  have  this  day  received  a  line  from  Col.  Wooster,  by  which  I  am  informed  that  I 
must  be  at  Norwalk  to-morrow,  in  order  to  embark  for  Albany.  I  am  ready,  and 
rejoice  at  the  news.  He  also  informs  me  that  you  are  appointed  agent,  and  have 
accepted,  at  which  I  greatly  rejoice,  and  hope  your  courage  will  hold  out,  and  de 
sire  that  you  will  be  made  a  blessing  to  your  country  and  government  in  this  im 
portant  undertaking.  The  office  is  very  honorable,  and  I  hope  will  be  profitable  to 
you  and  the  government  By  no  means  refuse,  but  look  upon  it  as  a  favor  of 
Providence.  To  love  God  with  all  our  heart  and  our  neighbor  as  ourselves,  is  the 
•rreat  gospel  command.  And  to  be  impressed  in  sucli  an  important  affair,  must  bo 
looked  upon  as  a  favor  from  Heaven ;  for  the  voice  of  the  people  (to  judge  ratio  i  • 
al  y)  is  the  voice  of  God,  when  they  look  to  him  for  his  influence  and  direction. 

"Your  family  reed  you  and  desire  yon,  and  so  does  mine  me;  but  private  mat 
ters  must  submit  to  the  public  good.  Sister,  I  hope,  will  quietly  acquiesce — from 
*  view  of  your  usefulness,  though  it  be  a  piece  of  great  self-denial.  I  could  \vish 
you  had  had  the,  small-pox — a  terror  to  the  world ;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  best  to 
go  to  Doctor  Munson.  on  Long  Islan.1.  and  inoculate — and  was  I  not  u'«in$  abroad 


518  APPENDIX NOTK*. 

regiment  of  dragoons,  he  was  made  a  cornet,  and  afterward  a  lieu 
tenant,  in  which  capacity  he  continued  during  the  war,  ever  sus 
taining  the  character  of  a  brave  officer.  Being  stationed  on  the 
lines  of  Connecticut  and  Westchester  county,  New  York,  he  became 
attached  to  this  part  of  the  country,  and  after  the  peace  of  1783,  ho 
settled  in  Ridgetield,  in  the  mercantile  business,  commencing  in 
company  with  Lieut.  Jarnes  Dole  of  the  same  regiment,  and  after 
ward  marrying  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  Jonathan 
Ingersoll,  April  18th,  1784.  He  was  several  years  a  member  of  the 
Assembly,  and  was  a  member  of  the  Convention  in  1818,  which 
framed  the  State  Constitution.  He  died  August  13,  1839.* 

as  I  ain,  I  wouM  go  and  be  with  you.  With  respect  to  cautions  and  advice  you 
give,  I  accept  them  well,  and  would  give  the  same  to  you.  And  so,  my  brother, 
go  in  the  fear  of  God — be  true  to  your  trust,  and  farewell.  Whether  we  see  each 
other  in  this  life  or  not,  let  us  labor  to  meet  in  glory. 

"I  remain  your  affectionate  brother, 

"JONATHAN  INGERSOLL. 

"P.  8. — We  are  all  well.    Send  our  compliments,  particularly  our  love  to  Boreas, 
and  tell  her  to  live  in  the  fear  of  God. 
"  JAEBD  INGERSOLL,  ESQ.,  New  Haven." 

*  The  following  portion  of  a  letter,  written  to  a  friend  by  Gen.  King,  dated  June 
19th,  181T,  in  which  he  speaks  of  the  capture  of  Andr6.  will  be  found  interesting: 

"  I  was  the  first  and  only  officer  who  hp.d  charge  of  him  whilst  at  the  head 
quarters  of  the  second  regiment  light  dragoons,  which  was  then  at  Esq.  Gilbert's, 
South  Salem,  Westchester  county,  N.  T.  He  was  brought  up  by  an  adjutant  and 
four  men  belonging  to  the  Connecticut  militia,  under  command  of  Lieutenant- 
colonel  Jameson.  He  was  on  the  lines  in  a  character  under  the  disguised  name 
of  John  Anderson;  he  looked  somewhat  like  a  reduced  gentleman;  his  small 
clothes  were  nankeen,  with  handsome  white-top  boots;  in  part  his  dress  was 
military,  his  coat  purple,  with  gold'  lace,  worn  somewhat  threadbare ;  he  wore  a 
sinall-brimmed,  tarnished  beaver  on  his  head;  he  wore  his  hair  in  a  queue  with  a 
long  black  band,  and  his  clothes  were  somewhat  dusty.  In  this  garb  I  took  charge 
of  him  to  breakfast.  My  barber  came  in  to  dress  me,  after  which,  I  requested  him 
to  undergo  the  same  oj>eration,  which  he  did.  When  the  ribbon  was  taken  from 
his  hair,  I  observed  a  fall  of  powder ;  this  circumstance,  with  others  that  occurred, 
induced  me  to  believe  I  had  no  ordinary  person  in  charge.  He  requested  permis 
sion  to  take  to  the  bed  while  his  shirt  and  small-clothes  could  be  washed ;  I  told 
him  it  was  needless,  for  a  change  was  at  his  service,  which  he  accepted.  We  were 
close  pent  up  in  a  bedroom,  with  a  sentinel  at  the  door  and  window ;  there  was  a 
spacious  yard  before  the  door,  which  he  desired  he  might  be  permitted  to  walk  in 
with  rue.  I  accordingly  disposed  of  my  guard  in  such  manner  as  to  prevent  an 
escape,  and  while  walking  together  he  observed  that  he  must  make  a  confidant  of 
Homebody,  and  he  knew  not  a  more  proper  person  than  myself,  as  I  had  offered  to 
befriend  a  stranger  in  distress.  After  settling  the  point  between  ourselves,  he  told 
me  who  he  was,  and  gave  me  a  short  account  of  himself  from  the  time  he  w»s 
taken  at  St.  Johns,  in  1775,  to  that  time.  He  requested  pen  and  ink,  and  wrote 
immediately  to  Gen.  Washington,  declaring  who  he  wa«.  About  midnight  th« 


APVKNDIX NOTES.  519 

General  King's  children  were  as  follows  : 

Catherine,  married  to  William  Hawley,  of  Ridgefield. 

Frances,  married  to  Rev.  Wm.  Neill,  D. D.,  of  Philadelphia;  died 
October,  1832. 

Sophia,  married  to  William  McHarg,  of  Albany;  died  March,  1838. 

John  Francis,  not  married  ;  died  1838.     Once  State  Senator. 

Charles  Clark,  not  married;  died  Jan,    1854. 

Rufus  H.,  married  to  Miss  Laverty,  of  New  York,  and  settled  at 
Albany. 

Joshua  Ingersoll,  not  married.  Once  State  Senator ;  resides 
in  the  family  mansion  at  Ridgefield. 

Anne  Maria,  married  to  Elisha  W.  Skinner,  of  Albany. 

Mary  Ann;  died  November,  1828. 

Grace. 

DEACON  ELISHA  HAWLEY  was  born  March  14,  1759.  He  was  the 
son  of  Thomas  Hawley.  Jr.,  and  grandson  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Haw- 
ley,  first  pastor  in  that  place,  and  one  of  those  who  settled  it,  and 
who  removed  from  Northampton,  where  the  family  had  been  located 
since  their  emigration  from  England.  Elisha  Hawley  lost  his  father 
at  the  age  of  fourteen,  and  four  years  afterward  was  drafted  for  ser 
vice  in  the  struggle  with  Great  Britain,  and  was  sent  to  New  York 
fur  the  defense  of  that  city.  His  regiment  was  stationed  at  Cor- 
laer's  Hook,  and  the  British  sent  up  a  part  of  their  fleet  to  cut  off 
its  retreat.  The  colonel,  however,  refused  to  quit  his  post  without 
orders  from  his  superior  officer.  When  they  were  received,  their 
retreat  was  so  hasty,  as  to  oblige  the  men  to  throw  away  their 
muskets  and  knapsacks.  The  vigor  of  our  young  soldier,  with  an 
appreciative  sense  of  their  use,  allowed  him  to  retain  his,  which  the 
colonel  was  glad  to  share  with  him,  when  at  night,  on  the  North 
River,  without  blankets,  they  were  exposed  to  the  peltings  of  a  vio 
lent  storm.  At  daybruak  next  morning,  they  took  up  their  march  for 
Harlem  Heights,  out  of  reach  of  the  enemy.  Here  they  made  their 
first  meal  on  flour  cakes  baked  on  the  stones  in  the  sun.  Young 
Hawley  was  next  engaged  in  cutting  off  the  retreat  of  the  enemy 
from  Danbury,  where  they  had  been  to  destroy  stores,  &c. 

express  returned,  with  orders  from  Gen.  Washington  to  Col.  Sheldon,  to  send 
Major  Andre  immediately  to  head-quarters.  I  started  with  him,  and  before  I  got 
to  North  Salem  meeting-house,  met  another  expre  s,  with  a  letter  to  the  officer 
rommanttiltf  the  party  who  had  Major  Andre  in  charge:  this  letter  directed  a  cir 
cuitous  route  to  head-quarters,  fur  fear  of  a  recapture— which  order  was  oomplifd 
with." 


520  APPENDIX — NOTK8. 

In  1786,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  lie  was  married  to  Charity 
Judson,  of  Stratford.  They  had  six  sons,  two  only  of  whom  are  living. 
Shortly  after  their  matrimonial  nlliance,  he  and  his  partner  joined 
the  Presbyterian  church  :  he  was  afterward  elected  to  the  office  of 
deacon,  which  ho  held  during  life.  Being  a  man  of  very  temperate 
and  regular  life,  he  enjoyed  uninterrupted  health,  which,  with  his 
habits  of  industry,  contributed  to  give  him  that  vigor  of  body  and 
mind  which  made  him  so  remarkable  in  the  later  years  of  his  life. 
In  the  summer  prior  to  his  death,  at  the  age  of  ninety-one,  he  would 
work  nearly  all  day  with  his  men  in  the  field.  It  was  the  desire  ol 
keeping  himself  employed  that  led  to  the  exposure  which  caused 
his  death.  On  a  chill  October  day  he  accompanied  his  men  to  his 
woods,  to  direct  the  cutting  of  timber,  taking  with  him  his  afternoon 
meal,  and  remaining  until  the  day  was  far  advanced.  Here  he 
caught  cold  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  which  resulted 
in  his  decease  in  the  following  April,  1850. 

Not  only  was  Mr.  Hawley  active  in  promoting  his  own  interests, 
but  he  showed  equal  zeal  in  assisting  his  neighbors,  visiting  the 
sick,  and  working  for  the  interests  of  the  community  in  which  he 
lived.  His  faculties  were  unimpaired  to  the  last :  his  retention  of 
memory  was  such  that  he  would  quote  passages  from  scripture, 
chapter  and  verse,  and  would  delight  his  grand-children  by  singing 
to  them  the  songs  and  hymns  of  his  youth.  On  the  celebration  of 
the  Fourth  of  July,  1839,  in  his  native  village,  he  was  called  upon 
to  address  the  people,  which  he  did,  directing  his  conversation 
mostly  to  the  young — telling  them  of  their  responsibilities  to  God 
and  their  country,  and  that  upon  them  depended  its  future  welfare  ; 
winding  up  with  the  kindly  hint  contained  in  that  little  verse — 

"A  little  farm  well  tilled, 
A  little  wife  well  willed, 
A  little  house  well  filled,"  Ac.— 

and  closing  with  singing,  in  an  audible  voice,  "  Hail  Columbia,"  ATC. 

One  of  the  leading  characteristics  of  his  life  was  his  endeavor  to 
follow  strictly  the  golden  rule  of  "  Doing  unto  others,"  <fcc. ;  and  in 
all  his  business  transactions  with  his  fellow-men,  his  constant  exer 
cise  of  mind  was  lest  he  should  charge  his  neighbor  more  than  the 
article  was  actually  worth. 

lu  relation  to  his  piety,  I  quote  from  the  obituary  sketch  written 
by  Rev.  Mr.  Clark,  of  Ridgefield :  "Throughout  his  whole  life  he  was 
untiring  and  assiduous  in  the  performance  of  every  Christian  and 
duty.  He  was  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord, 


APPKNDIX NOTFS.  521 

whether  it  consisted  in  visiting  the  sick,  relieving  the  poor,  promoting 
peace  among  his  neighbors  and  brethren,  contributing  freely  to  be 
nevolent  objects,  or  in  prayers  and  labor  for  the  prosperity  of  the 
church  with  which  he  was  connected,  and  Zion  at  large.  The  mem 
ory  of  his  name  will  long  be  fragrant  among  the  people  where  he 
lived  and  died.  They  feel  as  if  their  best  friend  and  counsellor  had 
been  taken  away,  and  many  acknowledge  his  influence,  under  Christ, 
for  their  hopes  which  they  are  permitted  to  cherish." 

Having  at  one  time  held  the  post  of  chorister  in  the  church,  he 
would  ofteu  in  his  old  age,  in  the  absence  of  the  leader,  set  the 
music  for  the  hymn. 

His  widow,  at  the  age  of  ninety-five,  still  lives  (1856),  and  en 
joys  remarkably  good  health. 

The  children  of  Deacon  Hawley  were  as  follows : 

Klisha,  Judson,  Irad,  Daniel,  Stiles,*  Chauncey.  Irad  and  Jud- 
son — now  living — have  been  successful  merchants  in  New  York. 


*    ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  MISSIONARY. 

The  Rev.  Stiles  Hawley  was  drowned  in  crossing  the  Kaska&kia  river,  Illinvis, 
.January  30th,  1830. 

Cold  sweep  the  waters  o'er  thee ! 

Thou  hast  found, 

'Mid  all  the  ardor  of  thy  youthful  zeal, 
And  self-devotion  to  the  Saviour's  cause, 
An  unexpected  bed.  The  ice-swoln  tides 
Of  the  Kaskaskia.  shall  no  more  resound 
To  the  wild  struggles  of  thy  failing  steed, 
In  tlie  deep  plunge  that  gave  thy  sou!  to  God! 

Say,  in  thy  jimrneyings  o'er  the  snow-clad  waste 

Of  yon  lone  prairie,  on  that  fearful  duy 

When  Death  strode  by  thy  side,  where  roamed  thy  thoughts  t 

Upon  thine  angel  mission  ?  or  the  scenes 

Of  distant  home,  with  all  its  sheltering  trees, 

And  voice  of  tuneful  waters  ?    Didst  thou  hope, 

When  Heaven's  pure  seed  should  blossom  in  the  wild 

Of  the  far  Illinois,  once  more  to  sit 

Beside  its  hearth-stone,  and  recount  thy  toils, 

Mingling  thy  prayers  with  those  who  fondly  nursed 

Thy  tender  infancy  ? 

Now  there  are  tears 

In  that  abode,  whene'er  thy  cherished  name 
Escapes  the  trembling  lip.    Oh,  yo  who  mourn 
With  heavy  temples  o'er  the  smitten  son, 
Slain  in  hie  £u\  tour's  service,  know  that  pain 
Shall  never  vex  him  mure.     IVrii  and  change, 


522  APPT-.XDTX — XOTKS. 

COL.  PHILIP  BRADLKY  was  born  March  26,  1738,  and  died  January 
24,  1821.  His  commission  as  colonel  was  dated  at  Philadelphia, 
1779,  signed  by  John  Jay,  then  President  of  Congress.  His  commis 
sion  as  Marshal  of  the  District  of  Connecticut  was  signed  by  Wash 
ington,  in  1794.  He  also  held  the  office  of  Judge  of  the  County 
Court  of  Fairfield  county. 

His  children  were  as  follows : 

Molly,  Jabez,  Philip,  Esther,  Ruth,  Betsey,  Sally,  Jesse  S. 

'SQUIRE  TIMOTHY  KEELER  was  born  in  1749,  and  died  in  1815.     Ho 
was  a  Representative  in  the  General  Assembly,  Justice  of  the  Peace, 
and  Postmaster  for  many  years. 
His  children  were  as  follows  : 

David,  married  to  Esther  Bradley. 

Esther,  married  to  James  L.  Crawford. 

Walter,  married  to  Hannah  Waring. 

Mary,  married  to  Philip  Bradley. 

Sarah,  married  to  Isaac  Lewis. 

William,  not  married. 

Anna,  married  to  A.  Ressequie. 

JOHN  BALDWIN,  "Granther,"  born  March  12th,  1728,  died  Novem- 
oer  9,  1809. 

DEACON  NATHAN  OLMSTEAD,  died  30th  of  July,  1805,  in  the  89th 
year  of  his  age. 

DEACON  JOHN  BENEDICT,  died  July  9th,  1814,  in  the  88th  year  of 
his  age. 

DR  PERRY,  died  May  21st,  1822,  in  the  73d  year  of  his  age. 

DR.  BAKER,  died  March  31st,  1823,  in  the  70th  year  of  his  age. 

SAMUEL  STEBBINS,  died  March  27th,  1836,  in  the  7ith  year  of  his  age. 


And  winter's  blast,  and  summer's  sultry  heat. 
And  sinful  snare — what  are  they  now  to  him, 
Bnt  dim-remembered  sounds  ? 

If  twere  so  sweet 

To  have  a  son  on  ear  h,  where  every  ill 
Might  launch  a  dart  against  his  breast,  and  pierce 
Your  own  through  his,  is  it  not  doubU  sweet 
To  have  a  son  in  Heaven  ? 

L.  H.  SieouRNR. 


APPENDIX NOTES.  523 

NOTE  II. 
Elizur  Goodrich,  D.D.*  and  his  Family. 

The  following  is  extracted  from  the  notes  to  Professor  Fowler's 
sermon,  which  has  been  mentioned  in  a  former  part  of  this  work : 

"The  Rev.  Elizur  Goodrich,  D.  D.  the  second  pastor  of  the  church  in 
Durham,  was  a  native  of  Stepney,  since  called  Eocky  Hill,  a  parish  of 
Wethersfield,  Conn.,  where  he  was  born  from  a  respectable  line  of  anees- 

*  When  I  was  in  England  in  1824,  I  visited  Goodrich  Cnstle,  a  few  miles  west 
of  Boss,  in  the  county  of  Hereford.  In  looking  at  the  guide-book  which  I  pur 
chased  at  the  place,  it  appeared  that  this  edifice  was  of  some  historical  celebrity,  it 
having  been  founded  by  Godric,  descendant  of  one  of  the  landed  proprietors  re 
corded  in  King  William's  "Doomsday  Book."  The  name  Godric  became  changed 
at  first  to  Goderic,  then  to  Goodric,  and  finally  to  Goodrich,  which  it  held  in  the 
tim«  of  Cromwell.  The  owner  at  that  period,  stimulated  by  the  spirit  as  well  as 
aided  by  the  purse  of  a  Catholic  priest  of  the  vicinity,  opposed  the  measures  of  the 
usurper  in  such  manner  as  to  draw  upon  him  his  resentment.  Cromwell  marched 
in  person  against  the  castle,  which  he  attacked,  and  after  an  obstinate  defense,  he 
having  demolished  a  portion  of  the  northern  wall,  it  surrendered.  From  that  time 
it  had  ceased  to  be  inhabited,  and  I  saw  it  as  Cromwell  left  it,  save  only  the  dilap 
idation  of  time. 

It  would  appear  from  the  ancient  history  of  the  county  of  Hereford,  that  the 
family  of  Goodrich— variously  spelled  Godric,  Goodric,  Goodrich,  Goderich — was 
formerly  common  in  that  quarter  of  England ;  but  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  I  was 
unable  to  hear  of  a  single  person  in  that  region  bearing  the  name.  As  to  my  own 
ancestors,  it  is  believed  that  they  came  from  Suffolk,  perhaps  in  the  vicinity  of 
Bury  St.  Edmunds.  There  were  two  brothers,  William  and  John  Goodrich,  who 
arrived  in  New  England  about  1630,  and  settled  at  Watertown,  in  Massachusetts; 
but  in  1686,  they  removed  to  Wethersfleld,  Connecticut,  where  they  continued  to 
reside.  From  William  Goodrich  and  his  descendants,  the  name  has  been  exten 
sively  spread  over  New  England,  and  within  the  last  thirty  years  over  the  North 
western  States. 

One  of  the  New  England  family  removed,  probably  about  a  century  ago,  to 
Virginia,  where  he  became  a  wealthy  planter.  A  descendant  of  his,  being  a  tory 
at  the  period  of  the  revolution,  went  and  settled  in  England.  His  descendants  are 
now  living  in  the  county  of  Sussex.  Other  descendants  of  the  New  England  emi 
grant  to  Virginia  are  still  living  in  that  State.  The  name  is  sometimes  spelled 
Goodridge  in  this  country ;  fifty  years  ago  it  was  pronounced  Gutrldge. 

My  paternal  grandfather  was  a  descendant  of  the  above-named  William  Good 
rich,  his  father  being  David  Goodrich  of  Wethersfield,  parish  of  Eocky  Hill.  By  the 
gravestone  of  the  latter,  it  appears  that  he  died  in  1702.  in  his  ninety-first  year,  hav 
ing  been  forty-six  years  a  deacon. 

In  "Goodwin's  Genealogical  Notes,"  among  other  notices  of  the  Goodrich  family 
I  find  the  following: 

Elizur  Goodrich,  D.  D. 
Elizur  Goodrich,  D.  D.,  born  October  18, 1784,  settled  in  Durham,  Connecticut, 


524  APPENDIX — NOTES. 

tors,  on  the  18th  of  October,  old  style,  1734.  Tie  early  evinced  a  strong 
love  of  letters ;  and  so  diligently  did  he  pursue  his  cherished  object, 
that  at  the  early  age  of  fourteen  lie  entered  as  a  member  of  Yale  College, 
in  1755,  on  receiving  his  master's  degree,  he  was  elected  a  tutor  in  this 
institution.  The  ministry,  however,  being  his  chosen  profession,  he  re 
signed  the  tutorship  the  following  year,  and  on  the  4th  December,  1756, 
was  ordained  pastor  of  the  church  and  congregation  in  Durham.  Not 
long  after  his  settlement,  he  became  united  in  marriage  with  Catherine 
Chauncey,  grand-daughter  of  his  predecessor  in  the  ministry  at  Dur 
ham.  The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  on  him  by  the 


married  Katharine,  daughter  of  Hon.  Elihu  Chauncey,  February  1, 1759;  she  was 
born  April  11, 1741. 

Kev.  Elizur  Goodrich,  D.  D.,  died  November  21, 1797. 

Mrs.  Katharine  Goodrich,  died  April  8, 1830. 

Children. 

1.  Chauncey,  born  October  20,  1759.    United  States  Senator,  and  Lieutenant- 
governor  of  Connecticut    Died  August  18, 1815. 

2.  Elizur,  born  March  24, 1761. 

3.  Samuel,  born  January  12, 1763. 

4.  Elihu,  born  September  16,  17&4.    Died  unmarried. 

5.  Charles  Augustus,  born  March  2,  1768.    Died  unmarried. 

6.  Nathan,  born  August  5,  1770.     Died  young. 

7.  Catharine,  born  December  2,  1775.     Married  Rev.  David   Smith,  D.  D.,  of 
Durham,  Conn.    Died  in  1845. ' 

Elizur  Goodrich,  LL.D. 

Hon.  Elizur  Goodrich,  settled  at  New  Haven,  married  Anno  Willard  Allnu.  only 
daughter  of  Daniel  and  Esther  Allen,  September  1,  1785. 
Elizur  Goodrich,  died  at  New  Haven,  Conn.,  November  1,  1849. 
Mrs.  Anne  Willard  Goodrich,  died  November  17,  1318. 

Uhildreu. 

8.  Elizur,  born  October  8, 1787.    Married  Eliza,  daughter  of  Gen.  Henry  Cham 
pion,  October  25,  ISIS ;  residence,  Hartford. 

9.  Chaimcey  Allen,  born  October  23.  1790.    Married  Julia,  daughter  of  Noah 
Webster,  LL.D. 

10.  Nancy,  born  January  1,  1793.     Married  Hon.  Henry  L.  Ellsworth.     Died 
January  15, 1847. 

£ev.  Samuel  Goodrich. 

Samuel  Goodrich  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Col.  John  Ely,  July  29, 1784. 
Rev.  Samuel  Goodrich  died  at  Berlin,  April  19,  1885. 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Goodrich  died  at  Berlin,  March  8, 1387. 

Children. 

11.  Sarah  WortMngton.  born  August  7,  1785.    Married,  1st,  Amos  Cooke;  2d, 
Hon.  Frederick  Wolcott.    Died . 

12.  Elizabeth,  born  April  26, 1787.     Married  Rev.  Noah  Coe. 


APPENDIX NOTES.  ."25 

college  of  New  Jersey.  In  1776,  he  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  cor 
poration  of  Yale  College,  and  in  the  following  year,  on  the  occasion  of 
an  election  to  the  presidency  of  that  institution,  consequent  upon  the 
resignation  of  President  Daggett,  he  was  a  candidate  for  that  office,  as 
was  also  Dr.  Styles.  It  is  understood  that  there  was  a  tie  in  the  votes 
given  for  these  two  gentlemen,  which  coming  to  the  knowledge  .of  Dr. 
Goodrich,  who  had  declined  voting,  he  insisted  upon  the  right  to  do  so, 
thus  turning  the  election  in  favor  of  Dr.  Styles— an  act  of  his  life  which 
ever  after  gave  him  pleasure,  and  which  seemed  to  increase  and  per 
petuate  his  regard  for  the  institution. 

"The  death  of  Dr.  Goodrich  occurred  in  November,  1797,  and  was 
sudden  and  unexpected.  On  the  17th  of  that  month,  he  left  home  for 
the  purpose  of  examining  some  lands  which  belonged  to  Yale  College, 
in  the  county  of  Litchfield.  On  the  Sabbath  following  he  preached  at 
Litchfield,  and  on  Monday  proceeded  to  Norfolk,  where  he  was  enter 
tained  by  the  hospitable  family  of  Capt.  Titus  Ives.  At  this  time  he 
was  in  the  enjoyment  of  good  health.  The  evening  was  spent  in  pleasant 
conversation.  On  the  following  morning  he  rose  early,  as  was  his  cus 
tom  :  he  had  dressed  himself,  with  the  exception  of  putting  on  his  coat, 
which  he  was  evidently  in  the  act  of  doing,  proceeding  during  the  same 
time  toward  the  door,  when  he  fell  in  an  apoplectic  fit,  and  expired,  in 
the  sixty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  forty-first  of  his  ministry. 
His  remains  were  carried  to  Durham  on  the  succeeding  Saturday, 
and  were  followed  to  the  grave  by  his  family,  the  church  and  the  con 
gregation,  and  a  numerous  concourse  of  strangers.  President  Dwight, 
of  Yale  College,  delivered  a  solemn  and  affecting  discourse  from  Eccle- 
siastes  ii.  1 — 'The  righteous  and  the  wise  and  their  works  are  in  the 
hands  of  God.' 

"Dr.  Goodrich  may  justly  be  numbered  among  the  distinguished  men' 
of  his  times.  He  possessed  powers  of  mind  adapted  to  the  investigation 
and  comprehension  of  every  subject  to  which  he  directed  his  attention. 
In  classical  learning  he  greatly  excelled,  and  so  perfect  was  his  knowl 
edge  of  the  original  languages  of  the  Bible  as  to  enable  him  to  dispense 
with  the  English  version.  In  the  exact  sciences,  as  well  as  in  mental 
and  moral  philosophy,  he  was  distinguished.  No  exercise  gave  him 
more,  pleasure  than  to  sit  down  to  the  solution  of  some  difficult  prob- 

13.  Abigail,  born  November  29,  1788.    Married  Rev.  Samuel  Whittlesey. 

14.  Charles  Augustas,  August  19,  1790.    Married  Sarah  Upson. 

15.  Catherine,  born  December  4,  1791.     Married  Daniel  Dunbar,  of  Berlin. 

16.  Samuel  Griswold,  born  August  19, 1793.    Married,  1st,  Adeline  Gratia  Brad 
ley  ;  2d,  Mary  Boott 

17.  Elihu  Channcey,  born  November  IS,  1T95.    Died  June  9,  1797. 

IS.  Mary  Ann,  born  May  29,  1799.    Married  Hon.  N.  B.  Smith,  of  Woodbury. 

19.  Emily  Chauncey,  born  November  25,  1801.     Died  October  22,  1803. 

20.  Emily  Chauncey,  born  November  18,  18U5.     Married  Rev.  Darius   Mead, 
died . 


526  APPENDIX — NOTKS. 

lem,  us  lie.  was  wont  to  rlo  in  his  hours  of  Ici.-ure.  Having  tlic  iise 
of  the  valuable  library  of  his  predecessor,  tnuny  of  the  <vorks  in  which 
were  written  in  Latin,  he  read  extensively  in  tliut  langiwge.  Divinity, 
however,  was  the  great  study  of  his  life.  He  took  large,  comprehensive 
views  of  the  doctrines  of  Christianity.  He  loved  the  Bible,  and  espe 
cially  those  truths  which  go  to  exalt  and  illustrate  the  grace  of  God. 
Salvation  by  a  crucified  Redeemer,  without  merit  on  the  part  of  the 
sinner  and  the  duties  of  the  moral  law,  was  the  burden  of  his  preaching. 
At  the  same  time  he  occupied  a  commanding  influence  in  the  churches 
of  Connecticut,  as  a  friend  and  a  counselor.  In  the  language  of  Presi 
dent  Dwight — 'He  was  a  man  of  unusual  prudence,  and  of  singular 
skill  and  experience  in  the  concerns  of  congregations,  churches,  and 
ministers.  His  talents  were  not  only  great  and  distinguished,  but  they 
were  also  of  the  most  useful  kind,  which  we  call  practical.  These  emi 
nently  fitted  him  for  the  service  of  God  and  for  usefulness  among  man 
kind,  and  in  these  respects  he  left  a  reputation  which  will  be  honored 
as  long  as  his  memory  shall  last.'  Soon  after  his  death  a  friend,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  him,  thus  truthfully  and  happily  summed  up 
his  character:  '  As  a  Christian  divine,  he  was  solid,  judicious,  and  es 
tablished  with  grace ;  equally  free  from  the  wildness  of  enthusiasm 
and  the  rigors  of  superstition.  His  reading  was  extensive ;  his  memory 
tenacious;  his  piety  substantial;  his  gravity  commanding;  his  profit 
ing  appeared  unto  all  men,  and  his  praise  is  in  all  the  churches.  He  was 
a  wise  counselor,  a  peace-maker,  a  friend  and  lover  of  his  country  and 
mankind.' 

"Mrs.  Goodrich  survived  her  husband  for  many  years,  honored  and 
beloved  by  a  large  circle  of  friends  and  relations.  For  the  church  and 
congregation  of  Durham  she  cherished  the  highest  regard,  and  con 
tinued  to  receive  from  them  the  respect  and  affection  to  which,  by  her 
character,  her  love  for  them,  and  her  example  among  them,  she  was 
eminently  entitled.  Her  death  occurred  in  the  spring  of  1830. 

"  As  to  the  family  of  Dr.  Goodrich,  he  left  six  children,  five  sons  and 
a  daughter,  to  mourn  the  loss  of  a  parent  whose  character  justly  excited 
their  veneration,  and  whose  example  they  could,  more  than  most  others, 
safely  imitate." 

The  following  is  abridged  from  Hollister's  History  of  Connecticut, 
VoL  ii.  pp.  634-638: 

"  CHAUNCBY  GOODRICH  was  the  eldest  son  of  the  preceding,  and  was 
born  on  the  20th  of  October,  1779.  After  a  career  of  great  distinction 
at  Yale  College,  where  he  spent  nine  years  as  a  student,  a  Berkeley 
scholar,  and  a  tutor,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at  Hartford  in  the  au 
tumn  of  1781. 

"  After  serving  in  the  State  legislature  for  a  single  nessioii,  he  was 
elected  to  Congress  as  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  in 


APPENDIX NOTKS.  527 

the  year  1794.  For  this  station  he  was  peculiarly  qualified,  not  only 
by  the  original  bent  of  his  mind  and  his  habits  of  study,  but  also  by 
the  fact  that  an  early  marriage  into  the  family  of  the  second  Governor 
Wolcott,  had  brought  him  into  the  closest  relations  with  public  men 
and  measures,  and  made  him  investigate  all  the  great  questions  of  the 
day  with  profound  interest  and  attention.  His  brother-in-law — after 
ward  the  third  Governor  Wolcott — held  one  of  the  highest  offices  under 
the  general  government.  This  led  him,  from  the  moment  he  took  his 
»eat  in  Congress,  to  become  intimately  acquainted  with  the  plans  and 
policy  of  the  administration ;  and  he  gave  them  his  warmest  support, 
ander  the  impulse  alike  of  political  principle  and  of  personal  feeling. 
A  party  in  opposition  to  Gen.  Washington  was  now  organized  for  the 
first  time  in  Congress,  as  the  result  of  Mr.  Jay's  treaty  with  Great 
Britain.  Mr.  Goodrich  took  a  large  share  in  the  debates  which  fol 
lowed,  and  gained  the  respect  of  all  parties  by  his  characteristic  dig 
nity,  candor,  and  force  of  judgment,  and  especially  by  his  habit  of  con 
templating  a  subject  ou  every  side,  and  discussing  it  in  its  remotest 
relations  and  dependencies.  Mr.  Albert  Gallatin,  then  the  most  active 
leader  of  the  opposition,  remarked  to  a  friend  near  the  close  of  his  life, 
that  in  these  debates  he  usually  selected  the  speech  of  Chauncey  Good 
rich  as  the  object  of  reply — feeling  that  if  he  could  answer  him,  he 
would  have  met  every  thing  truly  relevant  to  the  subject  which  had 
been  urged  on  the  part  of  the  government. 

"In  1801,  he  resigned  his  seat  in  Congress,  and  returned  to  the 
practice  of  the  law  at  Hartford.  The  next  year  he  was  chosen  to 
the  office  of  councilor  in  the  State  legislature,  which  he  continued  to 
fill  down  to  1807,  when  he  was  elected  to  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States.  During  the  violent  conflicts  of  the  next  six  years,  he  took 
an  active  part  in  most  of  the  discussions  which  arose  out  of  the  em 
bargo,  the  non-intercourse  laws,  and  the  other  measures  which  led  to 
the  war  with  Great  Britain.  The  same  qualities  which  marked  his 
early  efforts  were  now  fully  exhibited  in  the  maturity  of  his  powers, 
while  the  whole  cast  of  his  character  made  him  peculiarly  fitted  for 
the  calmer  deliberations  of  the  Senate.  He  had  nothing  of  what  Burke 
calls  the  '  smartness  of  debate.'  He  never  indulged  in  sarcasm  or  per 
sonal  attack.  Tn  the  most  stormy  discussions,  he  maintained  a  cour 
tesy  which  disarmed  rudeness.  No  one  ever  suspected  him  of  wishing 
to  misrepresent  an  antagonist,  or  evade  the  force  of  an  argument ;  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  was  treated  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate,  shows 
how  much  can  be  done  to  conciliate  one's  political  opponents,  even  in 
the  worst  times,  by  a  uniform  exhibition  of  high  principle,  if  connected 
with  a  penetrating  judgment  and  great  reasoning  powers.  Mr.  Jeffer 
son  playfully  remarked  to  a  friend  during  this  period — '  That  white- 
headed  Yankee  from  Connecticut  is  the  most  difficult  man  to  deal  with 
in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.' 

"  In  1818,  he  was  chosen  lieutenant-governor  of  the  State,  and  con- 


528  APPENDIX NOTES. 

tinned  to  hold  this  office  until  his  death.  At  the  meeting  of  the  legis 
lature  in  1814,  ho  was  appointed  a  delegate  to  the  celebrated  Hartford 
Contention.  Though  in  feeble  health,  he  took  a  large  share  in  tlio  de 
liberations  of  that  body,  and  especially  in  those  healing  measures  which 
were  finally  adopted.  During  its  session,  he  received  communications 
from  distinguished  men  in  other  States,  touching  the  various  questions 
at  issue,  and  particularly  from  Mr.  Daniel  Webster,  who  had  previously 
sent  him  an  extended  argument  to  show  that  the  provisions  of  the  em 
bargo  law,  '  so  far  as  it  interdicts  commerce  between  parts  of  the  Uni 
ted  States,'  were  unconstitutional  and  oppressive  in  the  highest  degree. 
Mr.  John  Randolph,  also,  addressed  him  under  date  of  December  16, 
1814,  forwarding  a  pamphlet  which  he  had  just  published  against  the 
administration,  in  the  hope  of  promoting  '  the  welfare  of  the  country 
in  these  disastrous  times.'  At  an  earlier  period,  Mr.  Randolph  hud 
been  one  of  the  strongest  political  opponents  of  Mr.  Goodrich  ;  but  he 
now  says — '  Unfeigned  respect  for  your  character  and  that  of  your  na 
tive  State,  which  like  my  own  is  not  to  be  blown  about  by  every  idle 
breath — now  hot,  now  cold — is  the  cause  of  your  being  troubled  with 
this  letter — a  liberty  for  which  I  beg  your  excuse.'  In  reference  to  the 
Convention,  he  remarks — '  I  make  every  allowance  for  your  provoca 
tions  ;  but  I  trust  that  the  "  steady  habits"  of  Connecticut  will  prevail 
in  the  Congress/  at  Hartford,  and  that  she  will  be  the  preserver  of  the 
Union  from  the  dangers  by  which  it  is  threatened  from  the  administra 
tion  of  the  general  government,  whose  wickedness  is  only  surpassed  by 
its  imbecility.' 

"  Early  in  1816,  it  was  found  that  a  hidden  disease  under  which  Mr. 
Goodrich  had  for  some  time  labored,  was  an  affection  of  the  heart.  His 
death  was  probably  near — it  would  unquestionably  be  sudden — it  might 
occur  at  any  moment  1  He  received  the  intelligence  with  calmness,  but 
with  deep  emotion.  He  expressed  his  feelings  without  reserve  to  his 
pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Strong,  and  at  a  later  period  to  the  writer  of  this 
sketch.  From  his  youth,  he  had  been  a  firm  believer  in  the  divine  au 
thority  of  the  Scriptures.  He  read  them  habitually  even  in  the  busiest 
scenes  of  his  life.  So  highly  did  he  prize  public  worship,  that  he  once 
remarked,  he  would  attend  on  preaching  of  a  very  low  intellectual  or 
der — which  was  even  repulsive  to  his  taste,  and  that  he  always  did  BO, 
if  he  could  find  no  better,  when  away  from  home — rather  than  be  ab 
sent  from  the  house  of  God.  As  the  result  of  all  his  studies  and  re 
flections,  he  had  become  more  and  more  fixed  in  his  belief  of  those 
great  doctrines  of  grace,  which  had  been  taught  him  by  his  father,  and 
which  are  generally  received  iu  the  churches  of  Connecticut.  His  life 
had,  indeed,  been  spotless,  and  devoted  to  the  service  of  his  country. 
But  in  speaking  of  our  ground  of  acceptance  before  God,  he  said  in 
substance — 'A  moral  life  is  of  itself  noth  in?  for  the  salvation  of  the 
soul.  I  have  lived  a  moral  life  in  the  estimation  of  the  world  ;  but  no 
iiuguage  can  express  tny  sense  of  its  deficiency  in  the  sight  of  a  holy 


APPKNDIX NOTES.  2'J 

God.  If  there  was  not  an  atonement,  I  must  be  condemned  and  mis 
erable  forever.  Here  my  hope  is  stayed,  A  sense  of  imperfection  often 
sinks  my  spirits,  but  generally  I  have  a  hope  that  supports  mo,  and  al 
times  I  have  rejoiced  in  God  without  fear,  and  have  wished  only  to  be 
in  his  hands  and  employed  in  his  service.'  In  this  state  of  mind  his 
summons  found  him.  On  the  18th  of  August,  1815,  in  the  midst  of 
the  family  circle,  while  walking  the  room  and  engaged  in  cheerful  eon 
versation,  he  faltered  for  a  moment,  sank  into  a  chair,  and  instantly 
expired,  in  the  fifty-sixth  year  of  his  age. 

"  In  his  person,  Mr.  Goodrich  was  a  little  above  the  medium  height, 
of  a  full  habit,  slightly  inclining  to  corpulency.  He  had  finely  turned 
features,  with  prominent  and  rounded  cheeks,  and  a  remarkable  purity 
of  complexion,  which  retained  throughout  life  'the  flush  of  early  youth. 
His  countenance  was  singularly  expressive,  showing  all  the  varied  emo 
tions  of  his  mind  when  excited  by  conversation  or  by  public  speaking. 
His  eye  was  blue,  and  deep-sunk  under  an  ample  forehead.  He  had  the 
habit  of  fixing  it  intently  upon  those  to  whom  he  spoke  in  earnest  con 
versation,  and  no  one  who  has  felt  that  look,  will  ever  forget  its  search 
ing  and  subduing  power. 

"  In  domestic  and  social  life,  he  was  distinguished  for  his  gentleness 
and  urbanity.  He  had  a  delicacy  of  feeling  which  was  almost  feminine. 
A  friend  who  had  conversed  with  him  intimately  for  many  years,  re<- 
marked  that  he  had  one  peculiarity  which  was  strikingly  characteristic: 
'  Not  a  sentiment  or  expression  ever  fell  from  his  lips  in  the  most  un 
guarded  moment,  which  might  not  have  been  uttered  in  the  most  re 
fined  circles  of  female  society.1  He  had,  at  times,  a  vein  of  hurnor, 
which  shows  itself  in  his  familiar  letters'to  Oliver  Wolcott  and  others, 
as  published  by  Mr.  Gibbs,  in  his  '  Memoirs  of  the  Administration  ot 
Washington  and  John  Adams.'  But,  in  general,  his  mind  was  occu 
pied  with  weighty  thoughts,  and  it  was  perhaps  this,  as  much  as  any 
thing,  that  gave  him  a  dignity  of  manner  which  was  wholly  unassumed, 
uud  which,  without  at  all  lessening  the  freedom  of  social  intercourse, 
made  every  one  feel  that  he  was  not  a  man  with  whom  liberties  could' 
be  taken.  He  could  play  with  a  subject,  when  he  chose,  in  a  desultory 
manner,  but  he  preferred,  like  Johnson,  to  '  converse  rather  than  talk/ 
He  loved  of  all  things  to  unite  with  others  in  following  out  trains  of 
thought.  The  late  Judge  Hopkinsoii,  of  Philadelphia,  inn  letter  to  Mr. 
Gibbs,  classes  him  in  this  respect  with  Oliver  Ellsworth,  Fisher  Ame.>; 
Uriah  Tracy,  Oliver  Wolcott.  and  Roger  Griswold  :  of  whom  he  say-*, 
'  You  may  well  imagine  what  a  rich  and  intellectual  society  it  w;i,,.  i 
will  not  say  that  we  have  uo  such  men  now,  hut  I  don't  know  where  to 
find  them.' 

';  His  crowning  characteristic,  that  of  integrity  and  honor,  was  thus 
referred  to  a  few  days  after  his  death,  by  a  writer  in  one  of  the  leading 
journals  of  Hartford.  '  His  judgment  was  so  guided  by  rectitude,  that 
of  all  men  living  lie  was,  perhaps,  the  only  one  to  whom  his  worst  cuo- 

Voi..   1.— 23 


530  APPENDIX — NOTES. 

my — if  enemy  lie  had — would  have  confided,  the  decision  »fa  controversy^ 
sooner  than  to  his  best  friend?  " 

KM/IK  GOODRICH,  LL.D.,  the  second  son,  was  born  24th  of  March, 
1761.  In  the  year  1775,  he  entered  Yale  College,  at  the  age  of 
fourteen.  During  his  senior  year,  his  life  was  brought  into  extreme 
danger  at  the  time  when  New  Haven  was  attacked  by  the  British. 
On  the  landing  of  the  troops,  July  6th,  1779,  he  joined  a  company  of 
about  a  hundred  in  number,  who  went  out,  under  the  command  of 
James  Hillhouse,  to  annoy  and  retard  the  march  of  the  enemy :  to 
ward  evening,  when  the  town  was  taken  and  given  up  to  ravage 
and  plunder,  he  was  stabbed  near  the  heart  by  a  British  soldier,  as 
he  lay  on  his  bed  in  a  state  of  extreme  exhaustion,  and  barely 
escaped  with  his  life. 

Having  been  fitted  for  the  bar,  he  established  himself  at  New 
Haven,  and  soon  acquired  an  extensive  practice.  In  1795,  he  was 
elected  a  representative  to  the  State  legislature,  and  in  1799,  a 
member  of  Congress.  This  station  he  resigned,  and  was  appointed 
Collector  of  the  port  of  New  Haven,  and  was  soon  after  removed 
by  Mr.  Jefferson  to  give  place  to  Deacon  Bishop,  as  elsewhere  rela 
ted  (vol.  i.  page  122).  He  was  immediately  elected  to  the  State  legis 
lature,  and  then  to  the  council.  His  habits  of  mind  fitted  him  pe 
culiarly  for  the  duties  of  a  legislative  body.  He  had  great  industry, 
clearness  of  judgment,  and  accuracy  of  knowledge  in  the  details  of 
business.  He  was  much  relied  on  in  drafting  new  laws,  as  one  who 
had  been  long  conversant  with  the  subject,  and  had  gained  a  per 
fect  command  of  those  precise  and  definite  forms  of  expression  which 
are  especially  important  in  such  a  case.  He  was,  also,  judge  of  the 
County  Court  for  the  county  of  New  Haven  thirteen  years,  and 
judge  of  Probate  for  the  same  county  seventeen  years,  down  to  the 
change  of  politics  in  1818.  In  the  latter  office,  he  endeared  him 
self  greatly  to  numerous  families  throughout  the  county,  by  his 
judgment  and  kindness  in  promoting  the  settlement  of  estates  with 
out  litigation,  and  by  his  care  in  providing  for  the  interests  of  wid 
ows  and  orphans.  He  was  also  mayor  of  the  city  of  New  Haven, 
from  September,  1803,  to  June,  1822,  being  a  period  of  nineteen 
years,  when  he  declined  any  longer  continuance  in  this  office.  For 
nine  years  he  was  Professor  of  Law  at  Yale  College,  and  repeatedly 
delivered  courses  of  lectures  on  the  laws  of  nature  and  nations,  but 
resigned  the  office  in  1810,  as  interfering  too  much  with  his  other 
public  duties.  His  interest  in  the  college,  however,  remained  una 
bated.  For  many  years  he  was  a  leading  member  of  the  corpora 


AI'l'KXDIX NOTES.  531 

timi,  aiul  was  particularly  charged  with  its  interests  as  a  member  of 
the  prudential  committee;  and  was  secretary  of  the  board  for  the 
period  of  twenty-eight  years,  until  lie  tendered  his  resignation  in 
1846.  It  is  a  striking  circumstance,  that  from  the  time  of  his  en 
tering  college  in  1775,  he  was  uninterruptedly  connected  with  the 
institution,  either  as  a  student,  Berkeley  scholar,  tutor,  assistant  to 
the  treasurer,  professor,  member  of  the  corporation,  or  secretary  of 
the  board,  for  the  space  of  seventy-one  years  !  He  received  from  the 
college  the  honorary  degree  of  LL.D.,  in  the  year  1830.  His  deatli 
took  place  in  1849. 

After  what  has  been  said,  it  is  unnecessary  to  give  any  labored 
delineation  of  Mr.  Goodrich's  character.  He  was  distinguished  for 
the  clearness  and  strength  of  his  judgment,  the  ease  and  accuracy 
with  which  he  transacted  business,  and  the  kindness  and  affability 
which  he  uniformly  manifested  in  all  the  relations  of  life.  His  read 
ing  was  extensive  and  minute  ;  and,  what  is  not  very  common  in 
public  men,  he  kept  up  his  acquaintance  with  the  ancient  classics  to 
the  last,  being  accustomed  to  read  the  writings  of  Cicero,  Livy,  Sal- 
lust,  Virgil,  and  Horace,  down  to  the  eighty-ninth  year  of  his  age, 
with  all  the  ease  and  interest  of  his  early  days.  He  professed  the 
religion  of  Christ  soon  after  leaving  college,  adorned  his  profession 
by  a  consistent  life,  and  experienced  the  consolations  and  hopes 
which  it  affords,  in  the  hour  of  dissolution. 

The  following  is  copied  from  Professor  Fowler's  Notes,  already 
mentioned  : 

SAMUEL  GOODRICH,  the  third  son,  was  born  on  the  l'2th  of  January, 
1763.  He  graduated  at  Yale,  in  178&,  and  after  a  course  of  theo 
logical  study,  was  ordained  at  Ridgefield,  Conn.,  on  the  6th  of  July, 
1786.  Under  his  pastoral  care  the  church  and  society  of  Ridgefield 
flourished,  and  he  became  an  instrument  of  extensive  good.  He  was 
often  called  to  aid  in  the  settlement  of  ecclesiastical  difficulties,  for 
which  he  was  peculiarly  fitted  by  his  extensive  knowledge  of  man 
kind,  and  by  his  plain  practical  sense.  On  the  22d  of  January,  1811, 
he  was  dismissed  from  his  charge  at  Ridgefield,  at  his  own  request, 
and  on  the  29th  of  May  following  he  was  installed  at  \Vorthington, 
a  parish  of  Berlin. 

In  1784,  Mr.  Goodrich  married  Elizabeth  Ely,  daughter  of  Col. 
John  Ely  of  Saybrook.  She  survived  him  about  two  years.  Their 
children  were  ten  in  number.  For  several  years  Mr.  Goodrich  had 
beeu  occasionally  afflicted  with  gout,  which  in  its  attacks  were  more 
frequent  and  more  serious  as  he  advanced  in  life.  His  last  sickness 


53* 


A  PPENDIX NOTES. 


w:is  short,  and  as  the  disease  early  affected  his  brain,  he  was  favored 
willi  but  few  lucid  intervals.  But  during  these  he  manifested  a  full 
knowledge  of  his  danger,  and  a  willingness  to  depart.  A  short  pe- 
rio.l  before  his  death,  he  revived  so  considerably  as  to  distinguish  his 
friends,  and  to  express  his  strong  confidence  in  God.  "My  soul," 
said  he,  "is  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  and  my  confidence  in  God  is  as 
firm  as  the  everlasting  mountains.  Yet,"  he  continued,  after  a  short 
pause,  "in  myself  I  am  a  poor  creature."  On  Sabbath  evening, 
April  19th,  1835,  he  expired. 

Mr.  Goodrich  lived  and  died  a  Christian.  As  a  pastor  he  was 
greatly  beloved ;  as  a  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  he  was  eminently 
successful.  Several  seasons  of  revival  occurred  under  his  ministry, 
both  during  his  reridence  at  Ridgefield  and  Worthington.  Many 
still  live  to  whom  he  was  a  spiritual  father,  and  who  cherish  his 
memory  as  "  a  good  man,"  and  a  kind  and  faithful  shepherd.  In 
the  language  of  one  who  knew  him  well — "  He  possessed  many  ex 
cellent  qualities  as  a  man  and  a  minister.  His  judgment  was  accu 
rate,  being  founded  on  an  extensive  acquaintance  with  men  and 
manners,  and  a  long  study  of  the  human  heart  He  readily  discerned 
the  springs  of  action,  and  knew  well  how  to  approach  his  fc-llow-men 
in  regard  to  objects  which  he  wished  to  accomplish.  He  did  not 
misjudge  in  respect  to  means  or  ends.  He  was  remarkable  for  his 
practical  good  sense,  and  an  acquaintance  with  common  and  there 
fore  useful  things.  His  understanding  was  rather  solid  than  bril 
liant,  and  his  knowledge  seemed  to  be  in  wide  and  diversified 
surveys,  and  was  gathered  from  many  a  field,  rather  than  contracted 
to  a  point,  or  derived  from  prolonged  investigation  of  particular 
subjects.  Hence  his  sermons  were  plain,  instructive  exhibitions  of 
truth,  and  shared  his  varied  information  and  practical  good  sense." 
During  the  last  years  of  his  life  he  preached  with  increased  fer 
vency,  spirit,  and  solemnity. 

How  highly  he  prized  the  scriptures  may  be  gathered  from  n 
memorandum  in  his  family  Bible,  as  follows:  "1806,  began  to  read 
the  Bible  in  course  in  the  family,  and  completed  it  the  thirteenth 
time,  October  29,  1833."  The  years  are  specified  in  which  he  each 
time  completed  the  reading:  "1809,  1812,  1814,  1816,  1821,  1823, 
1826,  1827,  1828,  1830,  1832,  1833."  Such  a  man  we  might  well 
expect  to  hear  say,  as  he  said  on  the  eve  of  his  departure — adopting 
the  language  of  the  Psalmist — "  Though  I  walk  through  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  urt  with  me 
thy  rod  and  thv  staff  they  comfort  me." 


APPENDIX NOTES.  533 

Eum;  CIIAUNCKV  GOODRICH,  Esq. — a  name  derived  from  his  mater 
nal  grandfather — was  the  fourth  child  of  Dr.  Goodrich,  and  wa*  horn 
September  16th,  1764.  He  also  received  his  education  at  Yale  Col 
lege,  from  which  institution  he  graduated  in  1784,  with  the  reputa 
tion  of  a  sound  scholar.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  profession  of 
law,  engaging  at  time.-,  as  interest  and  inclination  prompted,  in  the 
purchase  and  sale  of  western  lands.  His  residence  was  at  Clav- 
erack,  New  York.  His  death  occurred  in  1802,  and  was  occasioned 
by  fever  induced  by  injudiciously  bathing,  during  an  excursion  on 
the  western  lakes.  He  was  never  married. 

CHARLES  AUGUSTUS  GOODRICH,  the  fifth  son,  was  born  March  2d, 
1758.  Like  his  brothers,  he  was  educated  at  Yale,  and  took  hia 
bachelor's  degree  in  1786.  In  constitution  he  was  less  vigorous  than 
the  other  sons,  but  to  a  fine  taste  and  poetical  genius  he  united  a 
disposition  the  most  affectionate,  and  manners  the  most  persunsive. 
Before  leaving  college  he  had  chosen  the  ministry  as  a  profession, 
for  which  he  was  well  fitted,  both  on  account  of  his  piety,  his  love 
of  learning,  and  the  native  kindness  of  his  heart.  Soon  after,  how 
ever,  and  by  reason  of  too  close  application  to  study,  his  nervous 
system  became  seriously  affected,  and  which  in  a  few  months  in 
duced  a  permanent  derangement  of  his  mental  powers.  His  death 
occurred  in  1804. 

CATHERINE  CHAUNCEY  GOODRICH  was  born  December  2,  1775,  and 
died  A.  D.  1845,  in  the  seventieth  year  of  her  age.  She  married 
Kev.  David  Smith,  D.  D.,  who  succeeded  to  her  father's  pulpit,  as 
has  been  elsewhere  stated. 


NOTE  III. 
Col.  John  Ely  and  Family* 

Col.  John  Ely,  son  of  Daniel  Ely,  was  a  native  of  Lyme,  Conn., 
and  born  in  1737.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  practice  of  medi 
cine,  and  speedily  became  eminent.  He  was  particularly  success- 

*  Richard  Ely,  a  widower,  tbe  first  of  the  family  who  came  to  this  country,  emi 
grated  from  Plymouth,  England,  about  1660  or  1670,  accompanied  by  his  youngest 
son  Pilchard,  and  settled  in  Lyme,  Connecticut  Daniel  Ely,  father  of  Col.  Ely, 
was  married  four  times,  and  had  thirteen  childrnn.  as  follows:  Mary,  who  married 


534  APIM.NDIX NOTKS. 

fill  in  the  treatment  of  small-pox,  and  he  erected  several  building* 
for  the  reception  of  patients  to  receive  inoculation  for  that  disease. 
Two  of  these,  constituting  a  regular  hospital,  were  upon  Duck  Isl 
and,  which  lies  off  the  shore  of  the  village  of  Westport,  where  he 
established  himself  in  practice.  He  married  Sarah,  daughter  of  Rev. 
Mr.  Worthingtou  of  this  village,  then  a  parish  of  Saybrook,  and  bear 
ing  the  name  of  Pachoug.  He  had  a  decided  military  turn,  and 
engaged  with  patriotic  ardor  in  the  revolutionary  struggle.  As  early 
as  1775,  he  mustered  and  marched  with  a  company  of  militia  to 
Roxbury,  under  his  command.  In  1776,  he  performed  a  tour  of  duty 
at  Fort  Trumbull,  New  London,  as  major,  also  officiating  as  physician 
and  surgeon.  Among  the  few  of  his  papers  which  remain,  I  find  a 
copy  of  a  pithy  letter,  which  he  sent,  as  commandant  of  the  fort,  to 
a  suspicious  ship,  lying  at  anchor  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor;  in  con 
sequence — as  is  said  in  a  note — "she  disappeared,  and  we  hope  to 
see  her  no  more."  **  In  July,  he  was  sent  to  visit  the  northern  army, 
and  employ  his  skill  in  arresting  the  small-pox,  which  was  then 
raging  in  the  camp  with  great  virulence."*  In  1777  he  was  again 
the  commandant  of  Fort  Trumbull,  with  the  rank  of  colonel,  his 
regiment  having  been  raised  by  his  own  exertions,  and  many  of  the 
men  having  been  fitted  out  with  his  own  money.  He  was  at  this 
time  wealthy,  and  the  country  was  poor,  and  with  the  liberality  of 
his  nature  he  devoted  not  only  his  services  but  his  means  to  the 
cause  which  filled  his  breast 

His  subsequent  military  career  may  be  told  in  the  report  of  the 
committee  on  revolutionary  claims  in  the  House  of  Representatives, 
January  23,  1833: 

"Colonel  Ely,  at  the  commencement  of  the  Revolutionary  war,  was  a 
physician  of  great  celebrity,  residing  at  the  town  of  Saybrook,  in  the 
State  of  Connecticut ;  that,  in  the  early  stages  of  the  conflict,  he  aban 
doned  his  profession,  and  raised  a  regiment  of  regular  troops,  and  was 
commissioned  as  a  colonel ;  and,  at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  he  en 
tered  into  the  service  of  his  country. 


Bcnj.  Lee;  Ann,  married  Benj.  Harris;  Elizabeth,  married  Abram  Perkins;  Dan 
iel,  married  Abigail  Dennison;  Sarah,  Both;  Wells,  married  Elizabeth  Williams 
and  Rebecca  Selden  ;  John,  noticed  above;  Amy,  married  Ezra  SeMen  ;  Lucretia, 
married  Bcnj.  Colt,  from  whom  descended  Samuel  Colt  of  Hartford,  renowned  for 
the  invention  of  the  revolver,  and  the  late  Dudley  Selden  of  New  York;  Christo 
pher,  who  married  successively  Eve  Marvin,  Esther  Hunt,  and Elliot;  and 

Elisha,  who  married  Susanna  Bloomer.    (Se«  Genealogical  Table  of  the  Lee  Fam 
ily,  by  Res.  W.  U.  Hill,  Albany:  Weed,  Parsons  <t  Co.,  Printers.) 
*  Caulkins'  History  of  New  London,  p  520. 


APPENDIX NOTES.  535 

"On  the  9th  of  December,  1777,  he  was  captured  by  the  enemy,  and 
became  a  prisoner  of  war,  and  was  paroled  at  Flatbush,  on  Long  Island, 
where  were  also,  prisoners,  several  hundred  American  officers.  Among 
these  officers  a  distressing  sickness  prevailed,  and  Col.  Ely,  from  the 
humanity  that  belonged  to  his  character,  from  the  day  of  his  captivity 
to  the  day  of  his  exchange,  faithfully  and  exclusively  devoted  his  time 
and  attention  to  them  as  a  physician.  In  discharging  this  duty,  he 
encountered  great  hardship  and  much  expense,  as  the  residences  of  the 
sick  officers  were  scattered  over  n  considerable  space  of  country,  many 
of  them  being  as  much  as  twenty  miles  apart.  Col.  Ely,  when  unable 
from  bodily  infirmity  or  the  state  of  the  weather,  to  perform  his  long 
tours  on  foot,  hired  a  horse  at  an  extravagant  price,  and  paid  the  cost 
out  of  his  own  private  means.  He  was  also  frequently  compelled  to 
purchase  medicine  for  the  sick  at  his  own  cost. 

"  Soon  after  he  became  a  prisoner,  his  son,  Captain  Ely,  in  conjunc 
tion  with  other  friends,  fitted  out,  at  their  own  expense,  a  vessel,  and 
manned  her,  for  the  purpose  of  surprising  and  capturing  a  British  force, 
with  which  to  effect  the  exchange  of  Col.  Ely.  The  object  of  the  expe 
dition  succeeded,  so  far  as  regarded  the  surprise  and  capture  of  the 
enemy,  and  the  prisoners  were  delivered  to  the  proper  authorities,  to 
be  exchanged  for  Col.  Ely.  This,  however,  was  not  done,  by  reason  of 
the  earnest  entreaties  of  the  sick  American  officers,  who  considered 
their  lives  as  greatly  depending  upon  the  continuance,  attendance,  and 
skill  of  Col.  Ely.  He  was  induced  to  forego  his  right  to  an  exchange, 
and  consented  to  remain,  for  the  comfort  and  safety  of  his  sick  brother 
officers.  It  appears,  from  a  certificate  of  Samuel  Huntington,  President 
of  Congress,  that  still,  subsequent  to  the  time  when  his  exchange  might 
have  been  effected,  through  the  valor  of  his  son  and  friends  ;  and  when 
he  became  entitled  to  an  exchange,  by  the  regular  rule,  that  a  deputa 
tion  of  exchanged  officers,  who  had  been  his  fellow-prisoners,  was  ap 
pointed  to  wait  on  Congress,  by  the  sick  officers  who  still  remained  in 
captivity,  and  to  urge  the  continuance  of  Col.  Ely  as  their  physician 
and  surgeon.  At  the  head  of  this  deputation  was  Col.  Matthews  (since 
a  member  of  Congress,  and  Governor  of  Georgia),  and  Col.  Ramsay,  of 
Jhe  Maryland  line.  Col.  Ely  was,  in  consequence  of  this  representa 
tion,  not  exchanged,  although  entitled  to  an  exchange.  He  remained, 
*nd  acted  as  physician  and  surgeon  till  the  25th  of  December,  1780, 
when  he  was  released — a  period  of  more  than  three  years." 

On  his  final  return  to  his  family,  early  in  the  year  1781,  Col.  Ely 
found  himself  broken  in  health  and  constitution,  his  lands  run  to 
waste,  his  house  in  a  state  of  dilapidation,  his  property  dissipated, 
and  a  considerable  debt  accumulated  against  him.  With  good  cour 
age,  however,  he  set  himself  again  to  his  profession.  He  rose  in  the 
morning  early,  cut  his  wood,  carried  it  in,  built  his  fires,  fed  the 


536  APPENDIX NOTES. 

cattle,  and  then  went  forth  upon  his  professional  duties.  In  those 
days  of  depression,  the  great  staple  of  the  family  for  food  was  hasty 
pudding — Col.  Ely  cheering  his  wife  by  saying  that  the  children  of 
the  poor  were  always  the  healthiest,  because  of  the  simplicity  of 
their  food.  By  these  efforts  and  sacrifices  he  partially  recovered 
from  his  difficulties.  His  health,  however,  gradually  gave  way  ;  and 
when  the  country  had  risen  from  the  chaos  of  the  war  under  the  new 
constitution,  he,  with  others,  applied  to  Congress  for  remuneration 
for  his  extraordinary  services.  Gen.  Knox,  then  Secretary  of  War, 
made  a  highly  favorable  report,  and  the  House  of  Representatives 
immediately  adopted  it  by  passing  a  bill  in  favor  of  Col.  Ely,  grant- 
it  g  him  twenty  thousand  dollars.  He  was  at  Philadelphia  nt  this 
time,  and  wrote  to  his  daughter  at  Kidgefield  that  in  a  few  days  he 
should  be  able  to  give  her  the  marringe  outfit  which  his  poverty  had 
hitherto  prevented  him  from  doing.  Not  doubting  that  the  Senate 
would  ratify  the  action  of  the  House,  he  returned  to  his  family. 

In  a  short  time  he  received  the  mortifying  intelligence  that  his 
claim  had  been  thrown  out  by  .ae  Senate.  Oliver  Ellsworth,  a  man 
of  great  pertinacity  of  character  as  well  as  wisdom  in  the  conduct 
of  affairs,  had  acquired  immense  influence  in  that  body — it  being 
said  by  Aaron  Burr  that  if  he  should  chance  to  spell  the  name  of 
the  Deity  with  two  ds,  it  would  take  the  Senate  three  weeks  to  ex 
punge  the  superfluous  letter !  He  was  generally  opposed  to  money 
grants,  from  a  just  anxiety  as  to  the  means  of  the  government,  and 
hence  was  called  the  "  Cerberus  of  the  treasury."  This  formidable 
senator  opposed  the  bill  in  CoL  Ely's  favor,  and  it  was  consequently 
defeated. 

Sick  at  heart,  borne  down  with  a  sense  of  neglect,  if  not  injustice, 
the  more  keenly  felt  because  he  had  sacrificed  his  fortune  and  his 
health  in  the  most  generous  manner  for  his  country  ;  indignant  at  the 
refusal  of  compensation  for  his  extraordinary  services,  promised  by 
letters  from  Washington  addressed  personally  to  himself,  and  placed 
before  Congress,  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  hope  of  further  success 
in  life,  and  after  a  few  years — October,  1800 — he  was  numbered  with 
the  dead.  About  forty  years  later,  the  heirs  of  Col.  Ely  presented 
his  claims  to  Congress,  and  they  were  readily  recognized.  Most  of 
his  papers,  however,  had  been  lost,  and  only  a  small  portion  of  his 
claim — about  five  thousand  dollars — was  allowed. 

The  character  of  CoL  Ely  may  be  inferred  from  what  has  al 
ready  been  said.  In  person  he  was  tall,  erect,  and  of  a  manner 
marked  with  dignity  and  ease.  In  conversation  he  was  lively,  fall 


APPENDIX — NOTES.  53  T 

of  wit,  and  abounding  in  illustrative  anecdote.  As  a  commander, 
he  was  the  idol  of  the  soldiery,  and  uniting  to  his  military  office  the 
skill  and  practice  of  the  physician,  with  a  tenderness  of  humanity 
which  knew  no  weariness,  he  acquired  a  degree  of  love  and  friend 
ship  which  few  men  ever  enjoy.  It  is  painful  to  reflect  that  it 
was  owing  to  these  amiable  traits  of  character,  and  to  the  confi 
dence  and  affection  they  inspired,  that  his  days  were  shortened  and 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  darkened  with  comparative  poverty  and 
gloom.  It  was  in  consequence  of  the  earnest  solicitations  and  rep 
resentations  of  the  invalid  soldiers  and  officers  that  remained  in 
captivity  on  Long  Island,  and  who  felt  that  they  could  not  part 
with  his  services,  that  he  was  induced  to  forego  his  privilege  of 
restoration  to  his  family,  and  continue  on  in  captivity — and  that  too 
after  his  son,  a  youth  of  twenty  years  of  age,  by  his  enterprise,  had 
provided  the  means  of  deliverance — devoting  himself  to  arduous 
duties,  which  finally  resulted  in  breaking  down  his  vigorous  consti 
tution  and  his  elastic  spirit. 

A  friend  has  furnished  me  with  the  following  notice  of  my  great 
grandfather  on  my  mother's  side,  and  the  progenitor  of  some  of  the 
leading  families  in  Connecticut : 

"REV.  WILLIAM  WORTHINGTON  was  the  son  of  William  Worthiugtofi, 
first  of  Hartford  and  then  of  Colchester,  Conn.,  and  grandson  of  Nich 
olas  Worthington,  the  emigrant  ancestor,  probably,  of  all  who  bear  the 
name  of  Worthington  in  the  United  States.  The  last  resided  in  Liver 
pool,  England,  where  he  was  a  great  farmer.  He  was  wounded  in  the 
Cromwellian  wars,  lost  a  part  or  all  of  his  estate  by  confiscation,  and 
came  to  this  country  about  1650.  He  settled  first  in  Hatfield,  Mass., 
and  afterward  removed  to  Hartford,  Conn. 

"  Rev.  William  Wortliington  was  born,  probably  in  Colchester,  Dec. 
5,  1695.  He  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1716,  preached  for  a  time  in 
Stouington,  Conn.,  and  was  settled  in  Saybrook,  west  parish,  then  call 
ed  Pachoug,  in  1726.  He  was  the  first  minister  of  the  parish,  and  was 
ordained  in  the  dwelling-house  built  for  himself,  but  then  unfinished, 
the  people  sitting  on  the  beams  and  timbers  to  witness  the  ceremony. 
He  died  Nov.  16,  1756,  in  the  sixty-first  year  of  his  age,  in  the  lan 
guage  on  his  gravestone,  '  much  lamented  by  all  who  were  happy  in 
his  acquaintance.'  He  was  a  popular  preacher  and  a  most  faithful  pas 
tor.  His  influence  was  eminently  persuasive  to  love  and  good  works, 
and  was  long  visible  after  his  death,  in  the  religious  character  of  his 
people,  and  in  the  tone  of  feeling  prevalent  in  the  business  and  cour 
tesies  of  life.  He  preached  the  election  sermon  in  the  year  1744.  The 
following  is  the  title-page  :  '  The  Duty  of  Rulers  and  Teachers  in  uni 
tedly  leading  God's  People,  urged  and  explained  in  a  Sermon  preached, 

23* 


538  APPENDIX NOTK8. 

before  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Colony  of  Connecticut,  at  Hartford, 
on  their  Anniversary  Election,  May  10th,  1744.' 

"  The  sermon  is  a  logical  and  well-written  discourse.  In  his  socia' 
and  ministerial  intercourse,  he  was  a  gentleman  of  great  blandness, 
gracefulness,  and  urbanity  of  manner — attributes  which  he  transmitted 
to  many  of  his  descendants.  T>ome  of  his  people  said  that  they  had  but 
one  thing  against  him,  and  that  was,  'he  walked  as  if  he  were  a  proud 
man.'  But  Mr.  Lay,  one  of  his  parishioners,  seeing  him  walking  in 
the  woods,  and  supposing  himself  alone,  with  the  same  dignity  and 
gracefulness  of  bearing  as  when  in  the  presence  of  others,  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  his  '  manner  in  public  was  natural  to  him.' 

"  His  four  daughters  were  celebrated  in  their  day  for  their  accom 
plishments.  The  traditions  of  their  superiority  of  air,  manner,  uud 
appearance,  still  linger  among  the  old  people  of  Westport.  Their  fa 
ther's  mode  of  educating  them  was  to  keep  one  of  them,  in  succession, 
at  domestic  employments  with  their  mother,  while  the  others  were  at 
their  studies  with  himself. 

"  The  following  is  told  among  the  legends  of  the  family.  Mr. 
Worthington  had  a  slave  named  Jenny.  After  his  death  she  lived  with 
his  children,  one  after  another.  When  she  died,  it  was  ninety  years 
from  the  time  that  the  first  bill  of  sale  was  given.  She  had  two  chil 
dren  in  Guinea  before  she  came  to  this  country,  and  must  therefore 
have  been  considerably  over  a  hundred  years  old.  When  she  was  on 
her  death-bed,  at  Mr.  Elnathan  Chauncey's,  in  Durham,  Dr.  Goodrich 
conversed  with  her.  '  Jenny  has  strange  notions,'  said  lie,  when  he 
came  out  of  the  room.  '  She  said  to  me,  "  I  shall  go  to  heaven.  I  shall 
knock  at  the  door,  and  ask  for  Massa  Worthington  ;  and  he  will  go  and 
tell  God  that  I  had  always  been  an  honest,  faithful  servant,  and  then  he 
will  let  me  in,  and  I  will  go  and  sit  in  the  kitchen."  ' 

"  Mr.Worthington's  first  wife  was  Nancy  Mason,  the  second  Temper 
ance  Gallup.  The  children  of  Mr.  Worthington  were — 

I.  Mary,  who  married  Col.  Aaron  Elliot,  of  Killingworth.  Her  chil 
dren  were,  1.  Dr.  William  Elliot,  of  Goshen,  N.  Y. ;  2.  Dr.  Aaron  El 
liot,  who  removed  to  St.  Genevieve,  La.;  8.  Mary,  who  married  a  Mr. 
Ely,  of  Lyme.  Sybil,  who  died  young.  Elizabeth,  who  was  the  oldest 
daughter  by  his  second  wife:  she  married  Col.  Samuel  Gale,  of  Gosh 
en,  N.  Y.,  for  her  first  husband,  and  Rev.  Elnathan  Chauncey,  of  Dur 
ham,  Connecticut,  for  her  second  husband.  By  her  first  husband  she 
had — 1.  Asa  Worthington  Gale ;  2.  Benjamin  Gale.  By  her  second 
husband -she  had  —  1.  Nathaniel  William  Chauncey;  2.  Catharine 
Channcey,  who  married  Reuben  Rose  Fowler;  8.  Worthington  G. 
Chauncey. 

"  II.  Sarah,  who  was  married  to  Col.  John  Ely,  of  the  army  of  the 
Revolution.  Her  children  were — 1.  Ethliuda,  who  married  her  half- 
cousin,  Dr.  William  Elliot,  who  settled  at  Goshen,  N.  Y. ;  2.  Worth 
ington,  who  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1780,  and  who  was  a  physi- 


APPENDIX NOTES.  539 

cinn  at  New  Baltimore,  on  the  Hudson,  and  the  grandfather  of  the  pres 
ent  Mrs.  Recorder  Smith,  of  the  city  of  New  York,  Mrs.  Waddell,  <fec. ; 

3.  Betsey,  who  married  the  Eev.  Samuel  Goodrich,  of  Berlin,  Conn. ; 

4.  Amy,  who  married  Dr.  Cowles  ;  5.  John,  a  physician,  and  member 
of  Congress,  established  at  Coxsackie  ;  6.  Edward,  a  lawyer,  settled  at 
Goshen,  N.  Y. ;  7.  Lucretia,  who  married  Dr.  Gregory  of  Sand  Lake, 
near  Albany. 

"  III.  Temperance,  who  was  married  first  to  Moses  Gale,  of  Goshen, 
N.  Y.,  and  afterward  to  Rev.  Samuel  Mather  Smith.  She  had  one  son, 
named  William,  by  her  first  hnsband,  and  she  had  by  her  second  hus 
band,  John  Cotton  Smith,  who  was  governor  of  Connecticut ;  a  daugh 
ter,  who  married  Judge  Radcliff,  of  New  York  ;  another  daughter,  who 
married  the  Rev.  Mr.  Smith,  of  Stamford,  Conn. ;  and  another  daugh 
ter,  who  married  Mr.  Wheeler. 

"  IV.  Mehitabel,  who  married  Michael  Hopkins.  Her  children  were — 
1.  George,  a  well-known  printer  and  publisher  ;  2.  Stephen  Augustus, 
who  removed  to  Richmond,  Va. ;  3.  Silvia,  who  was  a  celebrated  beau 
ty  ;  4.  Belinda. 

"  V.  William,  who  was  a  colonel  in  the  army  of  the  Revolution." 


NOTE  IV. 

The  Clergy  of  Fair  field  County. 

Rev.  AMZI  LEWIS,  D.  D.,  son  of  Deacon  Samuel  Lewis,  of  Nauga- 
tuck,  graduated  at  Yale  College,  1768,  settled  at  Horseneck,  and 
died  in  1819. 

Rev.  JUSTUS  MITCHELL*  settled  at  New  Canaan,  and  died  in  1808. 

Rev.  MATTHIAS  BURNET,  D.  D.,  was  installed  over  the  First  Congre 
gational  Church  of  Norwalk,  1785,  died  1806,  aged  fifty-eight. 

Rev.  ELIJAH  WATERMAN  was  graduated  at  Yale  in  1791,  ordained 
at  Windham  in  1794,  installed  at  Bridgeport  in  1806,  and  died  in 
1825,  aged  fifty-six. 

Rev.  ROSWELL  SWAN,  settled  over  the  First  Congregational  Church 
in  Norwalk,  1807,  died  1819,  in  the  forty  first  year  of  his  age. 

HEMAN  HUMPHRIES,  D.  D.,  was  born  in  Simsburv,  Conn.,  March 


*  The  Mitchell  family  were  originally  from  Scotland,  and  settled  afterward  in 
Yorkshire.  Matthew  Mitchell,  the  ancestor  of  the  Mitchells  of  this  county,  wa» 
born  in  1590.  He  emigrated  to  America  in  1635,  and  finally  settled  at  Stamford, 
w;  ere  lie  died.  1(>45.  See  i'othron'»  Ancient  Woodbury,  p.  633. 


540  APPENDIX — NOTES. 

26,  1779  ;  he  was  brought  up  in  West  Britain,  now  Burlington,  under 
the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Miller,  and  was  received  into 
his  church  when  about  twenty  years  of  age.  He  had  few  early  ad 
vantages  of  education,  but  he  mastered  all  difficulties,  and  by  his 
own  efforts  passed  through  Yale  College,  graduating  in  1805.  He 
studied  divinity,  and  was  settled  at  Fail-field  in  1807.  Being  dis 
missed,  at  his  own  request,  in  1817,  he  was  settled  at  Pittsfield  in 
the  autumn  of  the  same  year.  In  1823  he  became  president  of 
Amherst  College.  In  1845  he  resigned  this  situation,  and  has  since 
made  Pittsfield  his  residence.  Enjoying  excellent  health  and  a  wide 
fame,  he  has  devoted  his  time  and  attention  to  the  promotion  of  good 
and  useful  objects,  chiefly  of  a  religious  nature. 

Rev.  JONATHAN  BARTLETT  is  son  of  Rev.  Jonathan  Bartlett,  who 
was  settled  over  the  church  in  Reading,  March  21st,  1733.  He  suc 
ceeded  his  father,  being  first  ordained  and  installed  as  his  colleague 
in  1796.  In  a  recent  letter  to  me  he  says:  "I  can  truly  say  that 
they — the  clergymen  of  the  Association  of  '  Fairfield  West' — were 
all,  not  only  in  my  own,  but  in  the  general  estimation,  highly  re 
spectable  as  men,  and  some  of  them  were  considered  as  possessed 
of  uncommon  abilities." 


NOTE  V. 

Revival  of  Education. 

J.  G.  Carter,*  of  Lancaster,  Masa,  was  one  of  the  first  and  most 
efficient  of  the  promoters  of  the  revival  of  education  in  New  Eng 
land,  which  commenced  about  thirty  years  ago.  He  began  to  write 
upon  the  subject  as  early  as  1821,  and  from  that  timej  for  about 
twenty  years,  he  devoted  his  attention  with  great  energy  to  this 
object.  He  published  various  pamphlets,  written  with  vigor,  in  be 
half  of  the  necessity  of  better  text-books,  the  more  vigorous  admin 
istration  of  schools,  and  the  thorough  training  of  teachers.  He  laid 
open  the  philosophy  of  teaching  with  great  ability,  and  was  in  fact 
a  pioneer  in  the  path  of  progress  and  improvement  which  has 
since  been  so  happily  followed.  He  promoted  the  lyceums  founded 

*  Mr.  Carter  was  a  native  of  Leominster,  Mass. ;  born  Sept  7,  1795,  graduated 
ui  Harvard,  settled  «t  Lancaster,  and  died  July  '22,  1849. 


APPENDIX — NOTES.  541 

t>v  tlie  indefatigable  Josiah  Holbrook,  and  in  1830,  delivered  two 
addresses  before  the  American  Institute  of  Insl  ruction,  of  which  1m 
was  an  active  promoter  —one  on  the  "  Education  of  the  Faculties," 
and  another  on  the  "Necessity  of  Educating  Teachers."  In  1835, 
chiefly  through  his  influence,  he  being  then  a  member  of  the  legis 
lature  of  Massachusetts,  a  grant  of  three  hundred  dollars  a  year  was 
made  by  the  State  to  that  excellent  institution,  and  which  has  since 
been  continued.  In  1837  Mr.  Cnrter,  still  being  a  member  of  the 
legislature,  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  causing  an  act  to  be  passed 
constituting  the  Board  of  Education,  which  has  since  been  the  source 
of  so  much  good  in  rousing  the  public  throughout  the  whole  country, 
to  the  importance  of  the  extension  and  improvement  of  education. 

Of  the  Board  of  Education,  thus  constituted,  Horace  Mann  became 
the  secretary,  and  by  his  eloquence  contributed  to  stimulate  into  life 
Ihe  good  seed  that,  had  been  sown.  Rev.  Charles  Brook«,  of  Hing- 
ham,  devoted  himseli  with  great  zeal  and  success  to  the  founding  of 
normal  schools,  and  to  him  Massachusetts  is  largely  indebted  for  her 
excellent  institutions  of  this  nature. 

Henry  Barnard,  of  Connecticut,  has  devoted  his  life  to  the  promo 
tion  of  education,  and  has  contributed  more  than  any  other  person  in 
the  United  States  to  give  consistency  and  permanonce  to  the  efforts 
of  enlightened  men  in  behalf  of  this  great  cause.  He  is  eminently 
practical,  and  at  the  same  time  by  his  various  writings,  he  has  largely 
diffused  among  all  classe*.  true  views  of  the  nature  and  necessity  of 
thorough  instruction,  especially  in  a  country  whore  the  political 
institutions  rest  upon  the  people. 

Among  other  early  and  efficient  promoters  of  the  movement  which 
has  resulted  in  the  present  enlightened  state  of  public  opinion  on 
the  subject  of  education,  were  Thomas  H.  Gallaudet,  William  C. 
Woodbridge,  A.  B.  Alcott,  W.  A.  Alcott,  George  B.  Emeivon,  D.  P. 
Page,  Josiah  Holbrook,  Ehenezer  Bailey,  Gideon  F.  Thayt-r,  Warren 
Colburn,  Francis  Wayland,  William  Russell,  Rev.  Samuel  J.  May 
Kcv.  George  Putnam,  and  indeed  many  others. 

The  "Journal  of  Education"  was  founded  in  1825  by  Thomas  B. 
Waite,  of  Boston,  originally  a  printer,  but  then  a  publisher — a  son 
of  a  member  of  the  firm  of  Lilly,  Waite  &  Co.  In  1828  it  came 
into  my  hands.  Mr.  W.  Russell  being  its  editor,  but  I  parted  with  it 
after  about  a  year. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  many  of  the  leading  men  of  Massachu 
setts  have  readily  lent  their  aid  to  the  cause  of  education  ;  among 
whom  we  may  specially  mention  Daniel  Webster,  J.  Q.  Adams,  Rob- 


512  AITKNDJX NOTES. 

ert  Rant-oiil,  Jr.,  Edward  Everett,  Levi  Lincoln,  John  Davis,  <fcc.  «fcc., 
all  being  convinced  of  the  supreme  importance  of  the  subject,  and 
desirous  of  lending  their  influence  to  enforce  it  U|x>n  the  attention 
of  the  people. 

Among  the  benefactors  of  special  education,  we  may  mention 
.jomas  Handy  side  Perkins,  of  Boston,  "a  merchant  who  accumu 
lated  a  princely  fortune,  and  whose  heart  was  still  larger  than  his 
•wealth,"  and  who,  aided  by  the  skillful  labors  of  Dr.  Howe,  was  the 
chief  founder  of  the  Massachusetts  Institution  for  the  Blind.  Ab 
bott  Lawrence,  who  rose  by  means  of  his  fine  person,  his  agreeable 
manners,  his  liberal  feelings,  and  his  strong  practical  sense,  not 
only  to  great  wealth,  but  to  high  social  and  political  consideration, 
was  a  most  munificent  benefactor  of  various  educational  establish 
ments.  His  two  brothers,  Amos  and  William,  followed  his  noble 
example,  and  the  public  appreciation  of  their  conduct  may,  it  ir 
hoped,  lead  others  to  devote  a  portion  of  their  surplus  wealth  to 
the  beneficent  cause  of  general  or  special  education. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


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